HR9c Printcrafters of Pern
by slytherinsal
Summary: When H'llon is made master of a new craft, one might expect him to come up with ideas that some people do not like. However, there is more to a new craft than new ideas, there is the training of new apprentices and journeymen, sorting out problems, and discovering how innovation may also be turned to profit. All this and dragons too. H'llon reckons life doesn't get much better
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

It was exciting to be part of a new craft! H'llon, twenty-one turns old, one-time acting-Master Woodcrafter, was now THE Printmaster with his own hall a-building, extending out from the Weyr!

H'llon had the grand total of two Journeymen in his craft to date. First was Tahnee, a fosterling of H'llon's one-time apprentice, now Journeyman Elissa; Tahnee had helped Elissa to refine her original invention of printing with individual words to encompass the idea of making single letters! Elissa preferred to stay with her first love in the craft, turning; and moreover chose her husband, Masterturner Gerney, over devoting herself to the new innovation. Tahnee, however, was very keen. The other Journeyman was a trained Smithcrafter Journeyman named Saralsi, who was skilled at fine metal casting, since the printcraft hall was to use metal letters now, not wood, for greater durability.

Equally keen was senior apprentice Ipominea. She was too young, at just twelve turns, to make up to being Journeyman, but she was a steady and level-headed girl, happy to experiment with new things.

Journeyman Woodcrafter Telfer, another former apprentice of H'llon's, had returned to the Weyr as Weyrwoodcrafter; he would take on the responsibility of training H'llon's woodcraft apprentices, and H'llon was delighted with the choice. Essentially, the Bronze Rider was Telfer's foster father, and it meant that good relations would be maintained between Woodhall, and Printhall, which would be good. H'llon could think of a few Journeymen Woodcrafters who might resent the founding of a new craft and the rapid promotion from Journeyman to overall Master of a man as young as himself, and his own brother was one of those woodcrafters. Master Bendarek however knew his people; and had chosen too the only Journeyman bar Elissa who really knew the Weyr and would know how to fit in from the very first. And he knew H'llon's own foibles and knew too that H'llon would have no qualms about handing over his workshop and equipment to Telfer.

Meanwhile, the first big job for the Printhall – before it was even built, let alone inaugurated – came from the Woodcrafter Hall. Master Bendarek wanted a foolproof way to verify the bona fides of Journeymen. H'llon suggested a special recipe of paper, incorporating real gold threads in it, watermarked with a pattern made in the form in which each sheet was moulded. With a formulaic certification printed, the name of the Journeyman was to be filled in by hand and for absolute verification, the thumbprints of the three Masters required to ratify promotion as well as their signatures and the Journeyman's signature to show his acceptance of Craft strictures and secrets.

Master Bendarek had asked H'llon to produce him enough certificates to give one to every woodcrafter Journeyman on Pern. It was not as yet a very large craft; and the print run would only be in dozens, but it was still a large job for an improperly formed craft!

H'llon discussed the job with his two journeymen and the idea that this concept might well spread.

"A suggestion, Master?" said Saralsi.

"Suggest away" said H'llon.

"If I make a frame to set this certificate in, I suggest we cast enough words and letters to make the whole thing, and store it set up to re-use. We'll have plenty of room in the new crafthall to do that with frequently required documents – or those which require but small alteration, such as dates" said the one-time Smithcrafter.

"Excellent idea. And if we have it so we can alter the craft as required, it will be possible to use the same format for other crafts if they like the idea – each with their own different watermarked paper" approved H'llon "And if the forms for the special watermarks are stored in the same place they can be locked away to preclude any felonious use of them, for when we become large enough that it becomes possible to have those who harbour larcenous intent acting covertly to the detriment of the Hall."

Tahnee giggled.

"Master, you've been listening to Ipominea with all those long words" she said.

"Oh Ipominea and her sister aren't the only ones to like words" said H'llon equably. "After all, it's by way of being our craft now as much as it is for the Harpers!"

oOoOo

As it happened, several other crafts DID think it a good idea; though to H'llon's profound relief, none of the others wanted copies for all current Journeymen; most other crafts were too large to make that practical! H'llon had orders from the Smithcrafters, Minercrafters, Healers, Harpers – together with a request for lots of the printed staves that had been Tahnee's idea – the Weavercrafters and the Farmcrafters. The Beastcrafters were reported to have called it a lot of nonsense; the Bakercraft were rather a loose affiliation, as were the Artists. Moreover, it was tradition for a Master artist certifying those they considered worthy with a rapid sketch of the journeyman in question, the style of the Master quite as identifiable to other artists as his signature. The Buildercraft were of the opinion that printing was a passing fad that would never catch on, and the Traders, whose journeymen were, in a way, the most vulnerable, were considering it. The Glasscrafters were late in replying, for which they apologised, but had taken a consensus and wanted to cover all their Journeymen, and were therefore working out how many would be needed and asked if the Printmaster minded waiting until they had numbers.

The Printmaster was thoroughly relieved to wait, and Tahnee re-wrote the letter he had intended sending thanking them for the delay, so that what was actually sent sounded accommodating and helpful rather than thankful.

"You can't let people think they can be dilatory on a general basis," said she, firmly, "Let them think that you do them a favour. That way they will be less likely to take advantage and be slow another time, when it might actually cause problems."

H'llon laughed ruefully.

"I should always leave dealing with people to womenfolk; it makes life easier." He said.

"Quite right too, Bronze Rider," laughed Tahnee.

"Well, it's handy having a delay," said Saralsi, "and a permanent delay for the Beastcrafters no doubt because they can't cope with fingerprints on anything as they'd want to use their hooves," he added slanderously.

"Can they count to three masters?" asked Ipominea.

"Now, now!" said H'llon, mildly, hiding a grin.

"We didn't even hear from the Fishcrafters," said Tahnee. "Or the Tanners."

"Waiting to see what the others do, I wager," said H'llon. "They're both a bit hidebound, though apparently not so much that they want to send insulting replies like some people."

"That's because Lord Oterel has a lot of say in the Fishcraft, Master, and he rates you highly," said Ipominea, dryly. "He probably sat on anything too insulting."

"Alas, likely enough true," said H'llon, "but maybe he'll persuade them to it. And then we tell them politely that as other crafts asked first they will have to wait. See, I CAN do diplomacy."

The others laughed.

"Only when you think about it though, Master," chuckled Tahnee. "It's a good start to our revenue, anyway! And if they all wanted them right away, we'd never have time to eat or sleep."

"I suggest we run a few more than each craft asks for – and store them locked away so no-one can accuse us of carelessness – " said Saralsi, "and then when they WANT more and want them yesterday, or have found some people they had forgotten, as people always do, we can comply quickly even if we have other jobs on."

"He's good, isn't he?" said Tahnee.

"An asset to the craft!" agreed H'llon, warmly.

Saralsi flushed, but looked pleased.

oOoOo

The new Printhall was to be inaugurated with a big feast – courtesy of Keerana – to celebrate it. Every Craftmaster had been invited, all the Lords Holder and Weyrleaders and sundry people H'llon liked, just for that reason.

F'lar and Lessa of Benden dragged themselves away from the mounds on Southern for so exciting an event; and so did N'ton, G'narish, G'dened and their respective Weyrwomen. Nobody expected D'ram to leave the Southern Weyr where he was still smoothing out problems; and no-one expected R'mart to heave himself out of his wallow of hidebound snippiness, as T'lana described it.

All the High Reaches Lords Holder came; and Lord Groghe; Lord Jaxom, fully confirmed now as Lord Holder brought his new bride, Sharra, and her brother Lord Toric attended from Southern, bright eyed and curious, wondering how to turn this new craft to his advantage. Lord Jaxom had also brought Lord Warder Lytol, who had too been on H'llon's personal invitation list. Lords Laudey, Asgenar and Larad were there, and no-one missed Sifer of Bitra, Nessel of Crom or Sangel of Boll. Lord Raid of Benden had come to enjoy himself scoffing; and so presumably had a good time.

The ceremony to open the Crafthall was run by Masterharper Sebell; and it was brief and simple. The weyrfolk at least appreciated that; it prevented too much delay in the bitter High Reaches winter from getting down to the serious business of feasting.

oOoOo

There were some dozen apprentices attending the ceremony – and appreciating the feast - who hoped that this culinary excellence might turn out to be a usual state of affairs in their new craft!

They were not to be too disappointed, for Keerana's niece Keereesa was to be the new Hall's headwoman, and H'llon was delighted to have secured the services of one of Keerana's numerous and legendary nieces!

The starting apprentices were volunteers from Smithcraft, Woodcraft and Harpercraft Halls who were interested in the new and very technical craft, and each with their own craft's outlook to bring to it. Some of them would prove to be senior apprentices soon; and H'llon planned to take in a dozen more totally new apprentices in the spring, when these boys and girls, used to intensive learning, had picked up enough to be a real help while he was teaching those with no knowledge of any craft.

H'llon addressed the apprentices and told them that there were to be several aspects of the craft to be covered; and proceeded to list them.

First was the making of paper, on which most printed material would be placed, which ultimately the Printcraft would take over from the Woodcraft hall. Second was the skill of looking at words backwards to make up the pages in mirror language, and with that the actual operating of the press. Following from that would be both the carving of master copies of words or letters and the casting of them in bronze. This would be allied to carving scenes or pictures of notorious renegades for distribution , in which they would co-operate fully with the artists of the Weyr Atelier, or other artists as seemed fit, and the Atelier under Geriana had also offered to run classes for the most adept in etching, for fine line pictures to illustrate books. The Printcraft was also to bind books, and tooling of leather or stiffened cloth for covers would be another possible speciality. Besides all this was the printing by sound of music on phonograph. One day, Harpers might be trained to use it, or a Printcrafter assigned to Harper Halls might print musical sound as well as printing musical scores.

To illustrate this, H'llon played and excerpt from the Harperweyr creation 'Flying', a sonata involving the voices of dragons and firelizards as well as human harmonies.

The youngsters gasped to hear the sound of such voices coming from a horn attached to a box!

"Recording music is so new a thing that we are still in the throes of experimentation," said H'llon, "but I hope one day to be able to send Journeymen to record every important performances played, so that the Harper Hall will have a record of particularly fine voices or performances. I have the only people on Pern here – myself and Senior Apprentice Ipominea – who know how to make this; you will be amongst the first with this exciting new skill, as with the exciting new skill of making books. I welcome you; I am still a learner myself, although your Master, and if anyone has an idea, I will always listen to it. You have been chosen from volunteers for your ingenuity; and I hope to see it in action!"

He was cheered.

oOoOo

H'llon intended to see each of his new apprentices individually; but a party was a good place to circulate and gain first impressions. Fandarel had said bluntly that there would be two types of volunteer; those keen to be a part of a new craft, whether for joy of learning or personal ambition; and those who were not outstanding at their own craft and hoped to shine more in a new one. Which, as the Mastersmith had said, did not matter as long as they were hard workers and gave it their best. The three Craftmasters had said they would choose from amongst volunteers to give H'llon as good a selection as possible to found his craft. Elissa had written that one of her close friends was interested in the craft but would not join him; Aleran had been in on the start of printing, but for him, as for Elissa, lathe was his first love; and the new young Journeyman would be teaching lathe from Turnover as a new skill at Threewoods Crafthall. H'llon shrugged to himself; it would have been too much to hope for some logicators, and another journeyman.

There were three woodcrafters amongst those sent; a couple of lads a little older than Elissa and one around Tahnee's age. Tahnee had greeted this one cheerfully, and by name, Haster. He had then embraced her, and given her a friendly peck on the cheek, congratulating her on her promotion with what H'llon thought seemed genuine warmth. Of the other Woodcrafters, one looked bright eyed and clever; and the other appeared more determined than anything else. There were also four Harpers and five Smiths, of whom two were girls; one was an elegant young woman, even in boyish trews, the other was about Tahnee's age. One of the Smiths and two of the Harpers seemed quite young; but they were all hand picked, and their Masters knew what they were about.

One of the older Harpers came up to H'llon, rather shyly; he was a stocky lad and, unusually for apprentices, had a brown firelizard on his shoulder.

"Sir?" he said, "I – I hope you don't think I'm here under false pretences: Master Sebell said it would be all right. And – and you're a friend of T'rin, aren't you?"

"I am glad to call T'rin friend, yes," said H'llon. "Why should you be under false pretences? What is your name?"

The youth flushed.

"I'm Duthi, sir…. I was in T'rin's dormitory when he was at the Harper Hall. He… he made sure us slower ones kept up…. And then Kit – I mean, K'iara – took over, only, well, I KNOW I'm not the musician so many are, even if I can more than keep up with the work; and I didn't want to end up as a more-or-less adequate Journeyman, teaching reading and nursery songs to a bunch of seabred brats who don't want to learn and whose parents don't care if they do or not, so long as they can wrestle with a sheet in a gale and land a pile of packtails. I – I'm basing that idea on my friend Shoris and what we know of Menolly, sir. So – so I had left."

H'llon nodded.

"And not just the seabred," he said, sadly, "but many outlying farmers too. I see your envy, lad; you love music, don't you?"

"Yes, sir, I do. And I love hearing those who are better than me playing; but I FEEL inadequate. And – and Master Sebell sought me out and suggested I should come to you, because I'd be near the music of the Harperweyr, and I've made paper with T'rin, and there's nobody outside the Drum Journeyman who knows more measures than me, thanks to T'rin and his charts! Though I didn't want to be a drum apprentice. Master Olodkey scares me."

"I don't know the man, and of course as a Master I could not comment on another craft's Master in any case," said H'llon, "but if you're experimented with T'rin's paper, and don't mind experimenting further with ink, we need something stickier than normal for a really good result. And you – I suppose all Harpers – could check scores if we print them. I can't read music."

"Yes, I can do that, and it wouldn't be hard to do as mirror writing, I shouldn't think," said Duthi, "and we can listen for flaws in music sound-printing. That piece you played was by T'rin, wasn't it? I know his style, though I find it a bit too clever for my tastes, sometimes."

H'llon grinned.

"You have to be in the right mood for it, I find," he said. "Yes, it would be as well to have reference notes sung into the machine to check how closely it records."

"Perhaps Caragel's voice will settle enough to do that," said Duthi. "He was a soprano, but his voice broke; he's never concentrated on much else, so he's a bit bereft right now, and anxious for a new string to his fiddle. I think Master Shonagar can't be hopeful that his voice will be as good as an adult or he'd never have let him go, and Caragel must feel that deeply. He has perfect pitch, so you'd think he'd be a useful chorister, but the idea of being near dragons AND getting to try something completely new was enough to console the kid somewhat. Femil's his friend, and good with his hands."

"The oldest boy, what can you tell me about him?" asked H'llon. He had been hoping for a Logicator, and Duthi was certainly one of those, like all T'rin's friends!

"Elerel's eighteen; he's like me, he loves music and is a good plodder, but he's Harpercraft bred. And I guess that can be a little stifling if you are just a good plodder. He doesn't seem to mind too much though, and he's clever, so he gets to do well in theory. I think he'll do really well here, sir."

H'llon nodded.

"So I think will you; if you enjoy the new, and experimenting, why, we're all learning!"

Duthi grinned shyly.

"I missed the atmosphere of learning far more than I realised, back herding ovines in my father's cot hold, suffering gibes from my brother. 'Course, he'll assume I'm being had by all the Blue Riders around because that's the way he thinks, reckon when he was young he was left out in Threadfall and it ate his brains and then died of indigestion."

H'llon laughed.

"You Harpers have clever tongues! I don't get on so well with my older brother either," he confided. "Do people STILL assume Weyrs are a non-stop orgy and that all Blue and Green Riders are homosexual?"

Duthi shrugged.

"Only the stupid ones," he said, "at least with printing, more true tales can be circulated to change views."

"Ah, the Harper at work," H'llon teased gently. "Which is why we wanted Harpers in the first place as part of the first growth!"

oOoOo

The tall, elegant Smithcraft girl came over; her rich, honey blonde hair toned with her golden tan.

"Couldn't help overhearing, Master," she said, "and I'd say that to protect individuals, tales might be covered with false names and… romanticised a little for the right effect."

"An interesting idea, apprentice….?" said H'llon.

"Glenlys, Master," she said. "Smithcraft, chemistry. I know how to make the etching acid; and I'm looking forward to experimenting with the best alloy for printing masters," her face shone with enthusiasm.

"I hope you have winter woollies," said H'llon, "I see you are from the south, by your garb you are of prosperous family, and probably close to the Weavercraft Hall in Southern Boll for the unique weave in your tunic. You are of Ranking family and yet of late accustomed to hard work and not afraid of it."

Glenlys blinked.

"You can tell so much? I suppose the calluses on my hands speak of the work. My speech? That gives my origin away? My tan is lighter than from Ista or Igen, as well as the new Weavercraft pattern, I wouldn't expect many to recognise that!"

H'llon nodded.

"Well done. We'll make a logicator of you. Duthi can explain that – and Tahnee."

"Sir, with reference to Tahnee," said Glenlys, "without disrespecting her craft ability and doubtless her maturity, she IS younger than me – if I have any personal problem I wish to speak to a woman about, to whom might I go?"

H'llon blinked. He had begun to bristle and had planned to point out tartly that Tahnee was responsible for inventing much of printcrafting, but this was actually a reasonable query. He would himself have felt uncomfortable going to a very young Bronze Rider when he was first in the Weyr. It was much the same.

"It's a good question," he said. "My weyrmate's no older than you either; there's our Headwoman, Keereesa; or there's always T'lana, the red haired Queenrider. Most people take problems to her; and you are nominally weyrfolk now."

"T'lana is T'rin's foster mother," said Duthi, "and she's really nice!"

"Tell me about her – and about logicating!" Glenlys drew the youth away for conversation.

H'llon grinned. He'd got a couple of good ones there, anyway!


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Glenlys was a granddaughter of Lord Sangel of Boll; and was unlike her cousin Pona, who had played at crafting by being a paying student at the Harpercraft Hall, to the discomfort of Menolly when that true Harper had first arrived there. Glenlys felt that a proper craft could give her more independence than a Ranking girl might usually expect, and gladly laid aside her Rank to train in Smithcrafting. This new craft of printing appealed to her; and though she was expecting to be made a Journeyman Smithcrafter before long she had volunteered for the experience.

Glenlys was also a loyal girl; and H'llon heard her hotly defend Lord Sangel when he was listed in those too hidebound to accept printing.

"He's not so much hidebound, as – as inclined to cling to the past, because he can't always remember what happened more recently!" she said.

Sangel was failing then, thought H'llon. Well, by the estimation of some, it would not notice; T'lana apostrophised him as the stupidest creature she had ever met that did not actually bleat. The girl's obvious love for the old man showed another side of him, though; and Glenlys also went on to say that Sangel had chosen his heir, his youngest daughter Janissian, both for her efficiency and to irritate all the truly hidebound who would hate his choice of a female heir!

Sangel could not be that stupid then, to display something of a sense of humour! All of his sons had died in a plague, and many might have expected him to pass over his daughters for grandsons or nephews and great nephews, of which he had a few. If he could accept a daughter as heir, he was not bereft of common sense. Maybe feigning stupidity was a way he had used to get his way at times! H'llon had also heard that the man had closed his own borders during the plague, in order to contain it; the act of a good and self-sacrificing man of stern duty, more complex than he at first appeared.

Glenlys at least seemed to have any brains that were in the family!

H'llon entered the conversation.

"Discussing Lords Holder so freely and disparagingly is not something I can let pass," he said. "It's not proper."

"With due respect, Master," said the oldest Harper, Elerel, sporting senior tassels like Glenlys, "I beg to differ. Where there are those Lords who are likely to be a danger to our craft we need to be aware."

"That is a point; but please confine comments to where that may be relevant, and not to personal comment," said H'llon.

"Heh," said Saralsi, "it'll depend if they see advantages to themselves. Take the most hidebound of all, Lord Sifer of Bitra. Bitrans are willing to share everything YOU own."

"Generalities are not always accurate," said H'llon, unwilling to rebuke a Journeyman more fully in front of apprentices.

"Sirs, I disagree again, with the Journeyman this time," said Elerel. "Lord Sifer does not like Harpers. He does not like the commons having too much knowledge though he dares not go as far as Fax. He would see printing as a way knowledge could spread too readily; it is my belief that it would be dangerous to EVER have a Printcrafter under his dubious aegis, because if he did permit them to work it would only be in printing those things the Lord Holder wanted printed, presented the way HE wanted them presented, and therefore not necessarily a completely, er, accurate representation of factual actuality."

"I see," said H'llon. "In some respects you actually agree with Journeyman Saralsi, as you qualified your suggestion that this Lord Holder would be likely to usurp any Printcrafter's skill to disseminate his own concept of the truth, whilst recognising that he would prefer to have no Printers anywhere in his lands. It is a matter I shall have to discuss with the Masterharper. But I think it will be a long time before we will be sending Journeymen anywhere; we need to have more here than the two we have at present, hmmm?"

The apprentices laughed.

H'llon marked Elerel down as a shrewd youth with an eye to the long term; and not afraid to put a view if he believed in it. The new craft looked to have a decent bunch so far.

The two older Woodcraft boys approached H'llon.

"I don't suppose you remember us at all, sir," said one, looking wistful as a wild look came into H'llon's eyes. "We were just scab-kneed apprentices when you left."

"Ah, that explains it," said H'llon in relief. "I knew I had seen your faces. I have your names; I presume one of you is Sebarek and the other Falom."

"I'm Sebarek," said the one who had spoken, "and you may be assured, Master, that we shall make every effort to do what we can to make the craft as successful as we may, and to try to squash the boy Haster's wilder impulses."

"Oh, I doubt Master Bendarek would have sent him if his impulses were too wild," said H'llon, appreciating the obvious sincerity in the boy's tone whilst secretly feeling every sympathy for the unfortunate Haster. The younger lad should be well sequestered from these two! "I welcome you to the Printcrafter Hall!" said H'llon, to make up for the gentle rebuke, and hoping he did not sound too pompous.

If he did, the boys appeared not to notice, but bowed, and looked pleased.

oOoOo

Tahnee knew the former Woodcrafters, of course; and hoped that H'llon would split the apprentices by age, even though all could be accommodated in one dormitory. The older boys would relish having 'kids' in with them about as much as thirteen and fourteen turn olds would like the more serious older ones in with them. Though of the older ones, Elerel seemed decent, and the oldest Smithcraft boy Corellan looked jolly; and Duthi she knew vaguely from stories. The older Woodcrafters Tahnee frankly considered stodgy; rather like badly-made porridge, perfectly nutritious and nothing BAD, but a little unpalatable to choke down too often. Sebarek and Falom had faintly resented her senior tassels after so short a time in the Woodcrafter Hall, and might well resent her Journeyman's knots too, regardless that they had NOT done anything to found this new craft. That could not be helped; they could have volunteered to help earlier with printing when it was still part of the Woodcrafter Hall. Haster had helped out occasionally, and therefore knew more than the older boys; though the other two did at least have knowledge of paper making. Tahnee hoped there would be no awkwardness; but it seemed that the pair both had a healthy respect for rules, conventions and usage such that they would show respect for her knots and make no real trouble whatever their private feelings and hopes that she might be shown up.

Haster seemed to have struck up a camaraderie with the youngest Smithcrafter boy, a turn or so younger than he; the boy's name was Selom, and he appeared to combine a serious streak with cheerful and humorous eyes that were bright with intelligence. That friendship would probably be good for Haster, inclined as he was to go off on the odd wild, impulsive freak, always for the best reason but without always taking reference to any thought processes first.

The next oldest Smithcrafter, nearer, Tahnee thought, to Haster in age, but with a hardness to his look, was introduced in her hearing.

"This is Faleran," said Selom. "He was born Holdless."

"What of it?" Faleran flared up. "I'm as good as anyone!"

Tahnee stepped in.

"We'll have no birth issues in this Hall if you please, boys; we are what we make of ourselves. There's nothing extra special about being Holdless, just because half a dozen or so of our Riders were born or have been Holdless. There's equally nothing special about being Ranking, Craftbred, Weyrbred or any specie of Holdbred. We have different backgrounds which mean we bring different views and experiences to the craft, each as valuable as the other," she said.

"Jays, Journeyman, I wasn't making no judgement about his birth, only as a matter of interest, like what you just said!" said Selom, sounding injured, "he just took it awry!"

"Then the matter is closed," said Tahnee, "on both sides. Your grammatical construction of that awful sentence is NOT a matter to be closed, however, young Selom; I will ask the Master to see you have an hour extra daily with the Harper assigned to teach ordinary lessons. We CANNOT have potential senior apprentices speaking as though they were raised under Fax's rules of ignorance, and likely by one of his runnerbeasts!"

Selom flushed, but grinned.

"Sorry, Journeyman," he said, "bad habits."

"Which you will break," said Tahnee, inexorably.

"Say, Journeyman, did you mean that – that there's Impressed Holdless?" asked Faleran, something close to a softening on his closed expression.

"Oh yes! Gold Rider Sh'rilla, her brother Blue Rider Journeyman Harper T'rin, Bronze Rider D're, his sister Green Rider M'ielle, Green Rider Harper Senior Apprentice T'arla, her cousin Bronze Rider Ch'vul and a couple more that I've forgotten offhand for not knowing. I don't know every Rider in the Weyr, I'm afraid, especially not scrubby Weyrlings!" laughed Tahnee. "As to a breakdown of backgrounds, I'm not wholly sure, save that if a Rider is loud, they are probably Seabred."

There was laughter, especially from the oldest Smith boy, Corellan.

"That's me, too, I'm afraid," Corellan chuckled.

"Will – well we ever have a chance to stand for Impression?" Faleran asked.

"Oh, of course!" said Tahnee. "They want me to stand for the coming clutch, though I'm dubious about it; it's a courtesy to Journeymen though. You lot will be crafting and learning for at least half a turn though, before being put to egg; to get the basic skills honed before the chance of all that extra hard work. It is extended to you lot as a right, and it makes sense to have some at least of the senior printcrafters able to travel independently; but we ask that you abide by THAT as a matter of courtesy to Master H'llon."

"Shells," said Elerel, the oldest Harper. "Are the High Reaches people deliberately blurring the edges of Craft and Weyr?"

"It's no more a blurring than having Ranking members of a Hold within the Crafthalls hosted by the Hold, or Journeymen marrying into the Ranking family," shrugged Tahnee, who had wondered the same thing herself. "The only person on Pern qualified to be Printmaster is H'llon; and you can't separate the man from the dragon. So the ties are perhaps closer than otherwise. If anyone does not want to take advantage of the opportunity to follow craft as well as standing, you need not stand for Impression, you know; it's not compulsory. Journeyman Saralsi has turned it down this time at least, and I would too if I felt there was any likelihood of me Impressing yet."

"Oh, I'd love to stand," said Elerel, hungrily. "I'm just concerned about what people – outsiders – will say."

Tahnee laughed.

"Y'know what they'll really say in all probability?" she said.

"What?"

"Where's that paper I ordered? Aren't my wedding invitations printed yet? Who's going to come and record me a copy of the Harper singing for my Birthing day feast?" she said in a nasal whine.

The apprentices hooted with mirth; even Elerel the worrier chuckled.

"Why, Journeyman, I withdraw all objections; you're quite right!" he grinned. "Though I swear they'll complain if it is because we all have dragonets!"

"We don't tell 'em," said Tahnee. "None of their business so long as we fulfil the orders on time, and we can probably draft in the Harperweyr to help with a lot if everyone else is busy with baby dragons."

"There may be murmurs when it does get out," said Glenlys, "but if they want printing they must accept the only man capable of running the craft; and when they have Journeyman Rider Printers able to deliver orders faster than a trader train, I wager any murmurs will stop."

"Are we allowed into the Weyr?" asked the younger girl, Moora.

"The rule at present is that you may go if you are invited or on specific business; you'll all be shown around, of course. If you make a friend who speaks to someone in authority, that's taken as an invitation. You do NOT get underfoot of craftsmen, lower cavern women or Blooded Riders on pain of being cuffed and a complaint made to H'llon," said Tahnee. "Offering to help oil dragons does not constitute getting underfoot, nor asking sensible questions; or appealing to the logicators if you have a problem. But as our own Master is a leading logicator, there's no problem. You girls can appeal to any female – and some of the male – Green Riders or a Queenrider for feminine advice if you think there's something out of my experience. One of the Queenriders is H'llon's weyrmate, Z'ira. She's pretty down to earth. I'd advise not asking Pilgra, as Weyrwoman, as she has a lot to do. Try, all of you, to avoid disappointed Blue and Brown Riders after a Green has risen; they can be snippy and not quite rational until they've come back down to the ground, and I mean that fairly literally. They are NOT themselves at that time, and to avoid insult, it's best just to avoid them. The new intake will NOT have the freedoms you people will enjoy, nor will they get the automatic chance to be put to egg; only if they get Searched while they are here. You dozen will enjoy privileges above future Printcrafters. Please don't let H'llon down by abusing them!"

"We'll do our best not to," said Glenlys, speaking for all. The others nodded seriously.

"Why Do we have extra privileges – not that I'm complaining about it – apart from the use to the craft to carry stuff for people on a dragon?" asked Elerel.

"Because you are the ones tipped to become some of our first Journeymen; and it's more comfortable for H'llon to have colleagues amongst his Journeymen," said Tahnee. "I'm his first apprentice's fosterling, so I have a familial relationship, as well as having helped found printing, so if I Impress or not doesn't matter."

"Surely you WANT to, though!" said Moora.

"At the moment? Frankly, I'm not sure I do," said Tahnee. "I'd rather get used to the responsibility of being one of only two Journeymen in a new craft, without added responsibilities. Po – Ipominea – will stand this time because she's an experienced printer, just not old enough for Journeyman; and because three of her sisters are already Impressed. That's always been understood, before the crafthall was built, and I'll make that clear now so there's no muttering. She could teach equally as well as I, so she'd not be losing out time, as she has to wait, essentially until she's old enough to be a Journeyman. She helped develop the phonograph, incidentally, so if she suggests something to help, I hope you older but less experienced apprentices won't feel like ignoring her on grounds of age."

Ipominea had been sitting quietly absorbing her own impression of the apprentices.

"I have been fortunate in my association with the Master to the enhancement of my knowledge and attainment of technical expertise," said Ipominea.

"Shells, does she always talk like that?" Elerel's eyes lit up.

"You wait 'til you hear her sister, Green Rider I'linne," grinned Tahnee. "SHE's a Harper. Po, my child, be kind to those with dismayed expressions and moderate your excursions into, er, prolixic loquacity."

"It shall be as you wish, Journeyman," murmured Ipominea, with her little smile of private mirth.

:oOoOo

H'llon, apprised by Tahnee, had not thought of splitting the boys by age: but saw her point immediately.

"The three girls will have to make do," he said.

"Well, in the Woodcraft Hall, Moora would be with the seniors in Isrona's cot anyway," said Tahnee, "and Po is older than any of them in some ways. Glenlys seems a decent type, not likely to be throwing her age in anyone's face, so that shouldn't be a problem. You put me next to them; and I'm surely glad Glenlys is decent; dealing with the self opinionated Ranking girl four turns older than me would have been exceedingly trying."

"It's a bit much to pitchfork you into being a journeyman so young, isn't it?" Said H'llon sympathetically. "You should have more time to enjoy yourself."

"I am," said Tahnee. "It's fun being part of this from the ground up. Sandrina stole my childhood, and some things you never really get back. Having love and approval of the chance to prove myself make up for a awful lot though, you know."

"I'm glad," said H'llon, soberly "you're family to me, Tahnee, you know that, don't you?"

"Yes, H'llon. And thank you," she said, softly, "and Lissan and Ella have accepted me as their daughter's fosterling, and their children and fosterlings are family too – though coping with Stoffer is hard."

H'llon shrugged.

"He needs to be treated like any child who is simple," he said. "He's capable in some ways, but, well, not in others. He doesn't crave companionship: just wood to carve. I'd not worry about trying to be friendly with him."

"Good," said Tahnee. "Thanks for that. Ah, well time to get them bedded down?"

H'llon nodded.

"You journeymen get that sorted out," he said. "Carry on!"

What fun it was, he thought, to say that!


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Ipominea was teaching, just as much as if she had been a journeyman; it freed Tahnee to take more complex excursions into page setting for style and effect, and the inclusion of illustration. The little girl was not the only apprentice sharing her craft; H'llon decreed that all – himself included – would take lessons in reading music, to avoid making embarrassing mistakes in carving pages. The notes must all be carved on a sheet and could not be individually set as letters could. Some work might be saved by Duthi's suggestion – that the stave block be printed onto a block of wood to be used at exactly the same size, and the notes be marked to carve only, so that careful lines need not be added to each song that be printed separately onto a printed stave, the two lining up as weavers lined up different blocks of different colour to butt or overlap. H'llon approved.

Duthi was teaching drum measures to those who did not know them; Elerel was responsible for teaching basic musical knowledge. Glenlys was teaching etching and the manufacture of acids for the same, and Sebarek was teaching paper making at which he was adept. At first, lessons took place altogether, each taking turns to teach his or her subject. H'llon himself tested out the ability to carve and gave instruction to those who skill warranted it – Haster the only woodcrafter he felt worth pursuing it, and, surprisingly, Moora, who was extraordinarily talented, and proved artistic enough to be sent for extra lessons with Geriana and was made an etchcraft apprentice. All the next intake of new apprentices would learn basic woodcarving and would make their own small alphabets to practise the art of print setting the way Elissa and Tahnee had first evolved it. Moora and Haster and H'llon himself as well as Tahnee would be responsible for carving the master copies of new letters or words required; or illustrations. The former would be cast by Saralsi; the latter probably left as woodblocks. Permanent pictures – visualisation quality – would be etched by Glenlys and Moora, though all had a chance to try. As it turned out, two previous Harpers had a turn for the artistic; Femil, the friend of the croaking soprano, and – to his surprise – Duthi! Geriana heaved all three of the artistic printers into her Weyratelier for concentrated lessons, so that they might teach others, and Duthi was amazed to be told he was wasted on printing when he might be a fine artist!

"Thank you, journeyman," said Duthi, amazed to find something for which she had talent. "But I gave my pledge to H'llon. If you will give me extra lessons so I may teach within my new craft, I would be overjoyed. But for myself, I will keep it as a hobby."

Geriana sighed.

"My loss is H'llon's gain" she said "And your line work IS very fine – and suitable for printing from."

Duthi grinned.

"It's nice to get praise for doing what I used to be punished for" he said "SUCH a whacking I got from Master Morshal for turning an arpeggio into a flight of firelizards!"

"Barbarous fellow" said Geriana cheerfully "If you ask me, children would learn to read music more readily if it WERE illustrated – and the notes had a bit more personality."

Duthi chuckled.

"You're giving me ideas" he said.

"Why not?" said Geriana coolly "Keep a sketchbook and show your ideas to H'llon – and T'rin. I wager HE'D use such ideas even if the Harper Hall turns out to be too stuffy."

"Hey – lay off my old crafthall, Journeyman! I have my loyalties still!" said Duthi.

"Sorry, Duthi; I was out of line" apologised Geriana, touching his arm lightly in apology.

He nodded, accepting it.

"Well, it's another new idea for us printers to try" he grinned "And as I have the musical training, if not the talent, I can readily write teaching tunes."

With Geriana as a consultant to the printers, H'llon went to see Agatta and asked if she would mind suggesting a conclave of Masters to give Geri her Mastery; and also give input into what they wanted in paper at the same time. Agatta was glad to do so, quickly selecting a couple of other artists she felt worth asking.

The two other Masters she brought were Perschar, widely recognised as one of the top artists on Pern, and Kellahan, recently acknowledged as a Master Artist accompanied her, collected by Melth.

Kellahan was bubbling with excitement at a trip on the big Bronze dragon, and even Perschar was very conscious of the honour done him by being offered a ride by an important man like H'llon.

"You wear many hats, Wingleader Master H'llon" he said after thanking both Melth and H'llon for the ride.

H'llon laughed.

"Well actually in some ways my duties as Printcraftmaster are going to be lighter than as acting Master Woodcrafter" he said "Because it's a very small craft and most of my duties are administrative; I function as an authority figure. Which I welcome; I can pursue the craft I love more as a hobby and be there to sort out the messes my journeymen cannot, and be big, fierce and backed up by a Bronze dragon – and a Melth's a big lad at that – if anyone tries to mess my people about. Being a Wingleader means I have to rehearse my wing in the complex formations we fly, though combining the two and having printed sheets of diagrams, courtesy of the Atelier, is very handy. Geriana suggested overprinting in progressively darker ink the positions into which the dragons move…..you don't really want to know all that, do you?"

"On the contrary, I think it an utterly fascinating thing that crafts can work together and be of use to our protectors" said Perschar "I think Agatta and Kellahan were hoping as hard as I that you might show us around the printhall, without giving away any craft secrets."

"None of it is particularly secret" said H'llon "The processes, like all crafts, take a long time to learn; and need specialist equipment. And I don't really think that it is in any wise courteous to hide craft techniques between masters. Indeed, I'd like to see more open discussion; Smithcraft, Woodcraft and Weavercraft come together of necessity to build the most complex looms; all crafts may have the ability to offer more to each other if only there was more discussion."

"The sky might yet fall if that was suggested too loudly" laughed Perschar.

"Alas" said H'llon. "Oh, and by the way, there's an as yet unofficial knot for Logicators; the Harper Hall recognises it. I know the Harpers recognise you, but I've been authorised to issue you with the Logicators' knot; you can display it or not as you see fit" and he handed over the complex square knot that the logicators had devised.

"Thank you" said Perschar "I thought my er, extra duties were not well known. What rank does this denote by the way?"

"Blame T'rin for my knowledge" said H'llon succinctly "He seems to find out everything that's going on. And we haven't troubled with rank as yet; logicators have always spoken up and offered ideas without prejudice, and we didn't want to change that until we had to; and when we do it'll be organised more along the lines the artists are anyhow, where participation and skill counts for more than rank and age."

"Well I am glad to accept" said Perschar, taking the knot.

"And I will be glad to show you all about after you have done what you came here for" said H'llon happily. After all, the more that was known about what the printers were capable of doing, the more customers they would have.

.

oOoOo

Once all the new people were familiar with basic skills, H'llon assessed that he had two journeymen to make up, who might continue to learn other subjects as well as teaching their own; and that the time had come to start specialising. They would all, too, be given a chance to work with the phonograph, which more esoteric piece of equipment had been laid aside. There would also start the business of binding books as an extra lesson. It was no surprise that the two to be made up were the two oldest – Elerel and Glenlys, both of whom had worked hard on the basic skills as well as having their own specialities.

"Duthi will be assistant to Elerel for the time being while he learns more artistry," said H'llon. "He will teach drum measures to the new ones. We will teach only the basic measures such as any Ranking might learn too: any adept at it can become specials to print advanced manuals later. Moora will assist Glenlys and in due course will teach woodcarving. These two skills and Duthi's artistic skills are closely allied. The rest of you I will award senior apprentice knots to; Sebarek, you need to work with me to gain some more advanced papermaking techniques before I promote you to Papercraft journeyman."

"Master, what's the point of putting patterns in paper? Its frivolous!" said Sebarek.

H'llon gave a grin.

"One of my own favourite words thrown back at me," he said. "For one thing, frivolous sells well: and we are a craft and we are therefore supposed to make marks. For another, placing a unique pattern in a document means it is hard to duplicate by villains. Elerel, Glenlys, if you hold up your journeyman warrants you will se shining where I have had our craft badge laid into the paper. See, Sebarek?"

Sebarek nodded.

"A wise precaution, Master: please forgive the question."

"Oh, the question was valid," said H'llon. "Personally I cannot see why foolish young girls like patterned paper with pressed flowers and perfume in it to write on, but Tahnee has found that it sells very well."

Sebarek stared at Tahnee.

"Why?" He asked "– journeyman?"

Tahnee shrugged.

"No craft ever got poor by assuming most people have poor taste," she said caustically. "Weavers sell gaudy patterns better than subtle ones; bawdy songs are sung more than the clever compositions of people like T'rin even Menolly. It's the way people are. We can be above that: or cash in on it to some extent."

"We are not printing smutty books," said H'llon, firmly. "Oh, it'll have happened when we've been going long enough to have dismissed people with training enough to do it; but we'll stay clean for the time being."

Seahold-bred Corellan clicked his fingers in supposed regret, grinning as he did so, and Saralsi cuffed him likely. Corellan grinned.

"Master, can we now start on projects of our own?" Asked Ipominea.

"What we were thinking of, Po?"

"I hoped Femil would join with me to produce books of children's verses and songs, illustrated prettily," said Ipominea, "and with simple music, for as he is Harper trained, beyond what Elerel has crammed into the rest of us – Journeyman Elerel, I should say, sorry."

Elerel grinned and waved a hand negating any offence.

"Femil? Would you be happy to do that?" Asked H'llon.

Femil nodded.

"We were talking about Duthi's dancing notes, and thinking about enlivening an alphabet to teach letters, with rhyme and each letter large and filled with appropriate pictures," he said. "A is for apple, juicy and sweet, all appetising for someone to eat: B is the bit of the apple we bite, big beautiful fruit that is such a delight. That sort of thing. And maybe any letter that starts a word with each printed in a different colour, which is tricky but not impossible."

H'llon nodded.

"Very well, fit that in around any classes you wish to take; I'll ask you all to list what subjects you wish to continue with, and I will try to draw up a timetable to allow everyone to partake of as much as possible for the next month or so before our new apprentices arrive."

Ipominea gasped.

"Only a month? That'll be not long after hatching!"

"Yes; and timed so, in case you Impress to give you the chance to adjust. We have worked hard for nearly 3 months; it is the start of spring. And you will all have a sevenday holiday – except you, Po, as a candidate – before the hatching, because you've put in a Turn's work in these few short months and I'm proud of the lot of you. Po, you have come on so well in all the other disciplines, it's only your age on which I'm holding you back as journeyman."

Ipominea grinned.

"That's all right Master: I'd hate to be made journeyman before my sister is even Senior Apprentice. It doesn't seem right. And I did not have the authority, anyhow; 'cos some of the little ones might even so be older than me."

H'llon nodded.

"I think everyone here knows how hard you've worked; and besides, if you follow all your older sisters in Impressing, it'll be good not to have the extra responsibility."

Ipominea grinned.

"This lot will all overtake me," she said cheerfully. "You're all to cheer me at hatching, d'you hear?"

"Will we be going, Master?" asked Glenlys.

H'llon blinked.

"Of course. All weyrfolk go … Oh I suppose it's a bit ambiguous. You dozen count as weyrfolk. It makes life easier. You'll have to draw straws to watch the babes on subsequent hatchings."

There was laughter.

oOoOo

The Crafthall had not been neglecting mark-making activity, of course; though the majority of the work producing paper had fallen on Tahnee, Ipominea, and the one trained Woodcraft apprentice, they had had help from Telfer and his apprentices who knew H'llon's ways and machines. These had been a revelation to Sebarek, Falom and Haster at first, used to pulping paper by hand! Simple books already set had been printed, and the Harper Hall had purchased quantities of printed staves and several drum measure instruction books that H'llon had set the previous Turn. Saralsi's suggestion of keeping set pages likely to be used more than once was a good one. Saralsi, Tahnee, and Ipominea had done many of them too; Ipominea being glad of her start on the others when the demand for a thousand sheets with staves came in!

The Crafthall was also entitled to produce marks for itself, to the value of the Hall; the conclave of Craftmasters determined how many might be produced initially at each Turn; the number of marks to be issued turnly by each craft was one of the things the conclave discussed.

The Smithcraft Hall had duly presented H'llon with a mark press and dies which were to be kept locked securely away.

H'llon locked them in a stone lined chest in Melth's weyr. Few would brave a Bronze Dragon to steal the press, even if they knew where the equipment was.

One idea H'llon had that he had bruited abroad had been one from his Logicator Mentor, the ancient Holmes; the idea of paper money. With the ability to lay in a watermark and to print the most intricate patterns into the bargain for high denomination notes it would make them extremely difficult to copy. Harder even, indeed, than the stamped marks that could be duplicated by anyone with enough perseverance and a little Smith training. Making watermark paper and having etching facilities called for more sophisticated and bulkier equipment, as H'llon pointed out. He demonstrated a forged 100 mark piece that he had asked Ipominea to make: and pointed out that the apprentice who had made this for him was just twelve turns old.

The other Masters were horrified.

"It looks to me as though you've talked you Hall into another profitable piece of work," rumbled Master Fandarel, turning over the forgery. "I can see it is a forgery; the stamping is not so neatly incised as a real one, the patterns fractionally simpler. But if I wasn't looking for it? This is a terrible young lady! "

"Oh, it's my Foster-daughter; I'd not ask such a thing of just any apprentice," said H'llon. "Such temptation would be unfair to the most honest. But Po takes no interest in money, only in her craft and Dragons."

Sebell nodded.

"She's a clever scamp and would doubtless be a fine Harper for such constructive roguery," he said.

"Her sister is," said H'llon, dryly.

"Well, it demonstrates ably that we need to be more careful. We had one large, well organised, band of Renegades; if such started forgery, even of smaller marks, on a large-scale… I propose that we accept Masterprinter H'llon's suggestion of utilising paper for a ten and hundred mark pieces – though it won't be so durable."

H'llon shrugged.

"When it gets scruffy, it will have to be redeemed by the appropriate Crafthall and replaced," he said. "I'll use a heavy paper with plenty of River grain starch for crackle, and cast up watermark pieces for each craft – so each craft needs the right paper and the right printing plate."

"Load of nonsense," growled Beastmaster Sograny. "I shan't be pandering to this new craft by letting them make a mockery of my value! I say the craftmasters should expel this too clever apprentice of his, and make her Holdless for her impudence!"

H'llon's eyes narrowed.

"I gave her the order to do her best to duplicate a mock," he said quietly. "To the intent of proof – not of forgery. To expel an apprentice for obeying an order of their Master when that order is no intent to cause harm would be the sort of action I would take serious issue with. Serious issue."

Sograny was not a small man: but H'llon, rising to his feet, towered over him, and the glows caught the bronze thread in his Wingleader's knots which were below the Master's knot, reminding the Beastmaster just who H'llon was. Sograny cringed back. H'llon went on,

"Are you trying to make ME craftless and Holdless? If you do, Sograny, I'll feel no compunction about using my skills to flood Pern with YOUR marks and ruin you. And anyone who could make forgeries would find it infinitely easier amongst the unregulated population of the Holdless. What you choose to do about your Hall's marks, to replace them or not, is your business: but DON'T YOU DARE threaten one of my apprentices again!"

"Thank you, H'llon, I'm sure Sograny wasn't serious," said Sebell.

"He'd better not be," growled H'llon: but he sat down.

"We need to decide," said Fandarel, "whether we all adopt this, or none of us do, or whether to decide craft by craft."

"We might have a show of hands to see who thinks it is a good idea anyway," said Sebell, "as a guide to how many like the idea."

Every hand went up except Sograny's, even the Masterbuilder, who was examining Ipominea's Mark in horror.

"You're outvoted Sograny," boomed Masterminer Nicat. "Can't have one dissenter; you'll fall in line with the rest of us."

"Are you all insane? This printing business will never last!" Cried Sograny. "And where will we be?"

"It'll last," said Sebell. "Even if H'llon can't make a go of it as a separate craft, I'll bid to absorb it into the Harper Hall – I can't think how we managed without such a wealth of leaves and printed staves, and such books! I can send all journeyman off to the teaching posts better prepared than ever in the – at least recent – history of Pern!"

"And we've already caught one renegade lying about his knots because of the new warrants," said Masterfisher Idarolan, "to be sure, I hesitated at first, but a woodcrafter questioned the bona fides of a ship captain, and as it turned out, rightly so. It could have saved his life; we can't have people misrepresenting themselves that way! Printcraft is here to stay – and a good thing to!"

And Sograny, moaning and grumbling, was duly outvoted.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

H'llon was still simmering after the meeting; and Masterharper Sebell draped an arm around his shoulder.

"Now, Bronze Rider, there is no truth in the rumour that Sograny's father accidentally sent his prize tup for training instead of his son," said Sebell. "For assuredly the Beastcrafters would have noticed the difference; the tup would have had better manners!"

Once H'llon had laughed at that outrageous calumny, he started to calm down. Sebell went on,

"He was rude to F'nor about the grubs too; some people are afraid of things that are new or beyond their understanding, as most folks are of Thread. You should be sorry for the poor fellow."

"Not likely – not after threatening Po like that!" H'llon's eyes glistened.

"And how could it be a real threat? Each craft has its autonomy. No master may inflict punishment on another craft's apprentice without permission from that craft, unless they are seconded _under_ the craft, as the Harper Hall has Tanners seconded to it for the making of drum skins. As Sograny should well know."

"It was malice to try to hurt me then? By attacking my fosterling?"

"Malice? My dear fellow, malice implies some sort of thought process involved! It was a reaction to the fear of forgeries allied with fear of change, neither one less nor greater than the other, so he leaped in with both flat feet to condemn both – in his usual inimitably tactless way!"

H'llon sniffed.

"You're as silver tongued as Robinton," he grumbled.

Sebell grinned.

"That's what they pay me for!" He said.

xxx

Duthi was called into service, designing notes for each craft.

"Can't we have a complex border that is the same for all, and the central square denoting value on one side and Crafthall on the other?" He suggested. "And different colour ink for the tens than for the hundreds would show what it was at a glance."

H'llon nodded.

"Make it so: but make sure there is complexity in the central panels too. Ultimately the crafts will add their own centres on prepared paper, but for now we'll be doing it all."

"How many?" Asked Duthi.

H'llon shrugged.

"I have no idea. I don't know how much money circulates, even."

"An average man earns 400 marks a Turn," said Ipominea. "Most of that he spends; so let's say 400, no 500 to take account of those who earn more than 1000 marks a turn, for each person at any one time. A Major Hold has some 10,000 inhabitants; and three times that to cover minor Holds and cotholds too, say 30,000 people per Hold, and, er, seventeen holds… 15 million marks times seventeen… er, lots." She looked shocked.

So did H'llon.

"What have I talked us into?" He gasped.

"Work," said Ipominea laconically. "Once the plates are etched it'll go fast enough when it set up. It's a small proportion of them marks in circulation that will be in large denominations; and we'll need long enough to recall all peoples marks to give them time before the old marks become worthless."

"Oh – I suppose they'll have to go out of circulation completely!" said H'llon. "I'm beginning to see why Sograny was so upset!"

"Huh," said Ipominea, "he isn't capable of reasoning that far ahead. It was no such thing; just resistance to change. Don't worry! It'll be fine."

H'llon grinned at her youthful insouciance.

"Might be easier if I could etch several in one sheet and print say half a dozen at once," said Duthi.

"Could you?"

Duthi shrugged.

"It'll take time; but it'd save time in the long run," he said. "I'll ask Saralsi to cast me a grid: I can mark the wax with it lightly as a guide if I grid off my design to make the copying more accurate."

H'llon nodded.

"I leave that in your hands then; and a proportion of the fee to come to you for your work."

"Sir, there's no need…"

"Oh yes there is – this takes you from producing things for sale on your own account for the wealth of the craft. By rights some of the fee will be yours. Your extraordinary skill is really what makes the proposal I made possible."

"Sir… Thank you!" managed Duthi.

H'llon grinned

"I guarantee in three days time, you'll be quietly cursing me more than thanking me," he said, "for it will be hard meticulous work. I'm glad I have someone I can trust to do it."

Duthi had thought H'llon special before; now he would have walked into Thread for him.

xxx

Tahnee and Ipominea had time off to do some lessons with the other female candidates; but with the hard work their still-new craft required, R'gar was lenient. As he said, Ipominea more or less counted as weyrbred, and Tahnee almost so through Elissa, who was nobody's fool and would not train a daft fosterling. Tahnee unravelled that to as close to a compliment as the crusty Weyrlingmaster was likely to come to a candidate, and candidate's parent. Both girls were well up to R'gar's stringent standards of fitness; as were many of the others. Mallitta wanted to stand again, and Geriana had put forward her apprentice Vellara. Teesha of the Harperweyr would also stand another time, leaving Larrina who was almost fit enough to please R'gar – she was unpleasant but no fool – and the new girls, a pair of female lovers and the little sister of one of them. This child, Linnara, was a little older than Ipominea and Lekelle, the youngest candidates, and almost as scatterbrained as Carinn. Linnara's fits did not help; and it was obvious to the weyrbred that her candidateship was an excuse to rescue her from a father whose beatings only exacerbated her condition.

Linnara was a gutsy enough little girl and the two printers took her under their wing a little. She would need a trade if she planned to stay; and both girls found their craft soothing in its perfection of repetitiveness, and showed her around.

The little girl was interested. She also showed some skill withdrawing, though her attempts at carving almost led to cut thumb. Tahnee had grabbed her hand just in time. Linnara sat happily for hours watching copies come off the press, however, and made herself useful collating the pages for books to be sewn together.

"Do you need a thirteenth apprentice, Master?" asked Tahnee cheerfully.

"You have one in mind?" Asked H'llon.

"Linnara," said Tahnee.

H'llon shrugged.

"I'll just take in eleven not twelve from those who have applied," he said. "No point overloading ourselves. I've yet to review applicants: they come in five days time. I've had twenty-seven applications."

"Heh, you'll pick who's good, and never notice numbers, H'llon," said Ipominea. "It'll be fine."

H'llon cuffed her lightly for forgetting to call him Master in the Hall; then gave her a hug.

Ipominea leaned into it; and Linnara watched with wistful eyes, wondering how a man could strike a blow that barely ruffled the hair as could be loved so well.

Jeinne, who adored her little sister, was grateful that the child had made a friend closer to her in age; assuming Tahnee to be at least sixteen!

"Sure she's no trouble to you and your apprentice, Journeyman?" She asked Tahnee.

"None at all," said Tahnee. "She can start as an apprentice after hatching, whether she Impresses or no – and I guess she won't until her fitting has stopped – if it ever does. Can't fight Thread when having a fit," she added laconically. "So long as she is watched near acid, and isn't let to pour molten metal, there's no danger in the Crafthall if she observes normal safety rules. Give the kid something creative to do, and stop fretting; it's worry as makes her fit more, I'd say."

Jeinne nodded

"Everyone here is very kind," she said. "I'd never believed there were people like it."

"It is a shock to the confirmed cynic, isn't it?" grinned Tahnee. "I wasn't well treated before I got to the Woodcrafter Hall – our parent craft, so to speak – so I recognise the way she cringes. I – I was the plaything of a woman who liked little girls sexually. I tell you this because, stupid as it is, you make me wary. I hope you can forgive that."

"I note you call it stupid," said Jeinne, "but I see why you are wary; as a kid who's been had by a man who spoils children will be wary of all men, I suppose. I find the concept as nauseating as any normal man finds such warped men. I hope you believe that."

Tahnee nodded.

"I do; but part of me isn't rational about it. Being candidates together will, I hope, make all of me rational. You know."

Jeinne nodded.

"You can't say fairer than trying not to let it affect your judgement – I'd like us to be friends."

Tahnee smiled.

"So would I: it would set my nightmares to rest a lot I think. And – and I'd rather you explained to your weyrmate than that I should have to say it again, if you don't mind; I'd not want to cause unnecessary jealousy if she thought you were being kind to me for romantic reasons – for I'd not want to cause trouble."

"That's thoughtful of you; very well, I will do that," said Jeinne.

Neminda, once Jeinne's personal drudge, was a little insecure at times and inclined to jealousy; and Jeinne explained most carefully to her, to avoid friction.

xxx

H'llon interviewed his twenty seven would-be printers; and after the first half dozen was wondering if any would come up to his ideas of what was suitable! He set each one a few simple tests of hand-eye co-ordination that he had devised – inking up a sample block and printing as evenly as possible three repeats each way across and down a sheet of paper; and writing their own name in block letter mirror writing. H'llon did not consider them stringent tests, and was appalled at how badly all the candidates were doing. The first child who succeeded in laying the block face up and smoothing the paper on, lightly marking the block's edge in the paper, caused him to sigh with relief.

" _You're_ in," he growled. "What's your name?"

"Laseta, sir. I haven't done all the tests."

"You've got enough care and common sense that you're trainable, even if you make a mess of the rest of it," said H'llon.

"Well, Sir, you learned to be careful when cooking I suppose," said Laseta. "Shall we go on?"

H'llon nodded and watched her through the tests. She had trouble writing her name backwards.

"I don't read and write so good the right way round Sir," she apologised.

"That'll be rectified. If your parents agree, you may stay now, early, to spend time with the Harpers."

She glowed with delight.

"That'd mean Pa would not have to take time off for a special journey – thank you!" She flung her arms around H'llon's neck and kissed his cheek affectionately.

"Tush!" Said H'llon, ruffling her hair. "Go speak to your father – he'll want to look me over too. Take him… hold on."

H'llon stuck his head out of the door, looking for an apprentice. Linnara was there; she would do.

"Linnara, take Laseta and her parents to the lower caverns and see that they get refreshment; they'll want to ask questions about me, she's to stay now, if they will."

Linnara bobbed a curtsy as the other female apprentices did to Master and held out her hand to Laseta.

That might even, thought H'llon, be the start of a budding friendship.

It was to be hoped that those two were not the only ones who were suitable. H'llon had put Dragon transport at the disposal of all those who showed an interest and submitted their names to Craftmaster, Lord Holder, or even Weyrleader – not that he had any weyrbred would-be apprentices in this batch of applicants – to be sure of getting a good selection. The net had gone wide. Twenty-seven was, in fact, a small number of applicants; and even to apply showed some desire to be different and try something. Or possibly, considering the lack of initiative some lads had shown, the desire to get a trip dragonback. Two more cackhanded efforts followed Laseta, before another boy made a more-or-less creditable stab. Shegen could be loosely described as local, and old to start an apprenticeship, but being the child of craft cot woodsman at Three Woods Hold, H'llon could see why his father had hesitated to send him to that imperfect Crafthall.

"Three Woods is much improved under Master Isimy," H'llon said. "Why do you not want to enter apprenticeship there?"

"Because what you are doing is new and exciting, Sir," said Sheghen. "And… And I'd like to have the chance to see dragons go over every day. Is – is that so very wrong?"

"No, lad," said H'llon. "I've not decided yes or no about you: if I have others more talented, will you enter Three Woods and consider transferring later?"

"Oh yes, Sir, if you wish me to!" said Sheghen. "I – I think that spreading information is generally important because if more people read the way things ought to be done, things can't go so wrong, can they?"

H'llon nodded.

He liked the boy's attitude: he was not the most sure of hand, but it was the new craft he craved at least as much as dragons, or he would have asked to join the woodcrafters in the Weyr. He would be a strong possibility to take on.

There was another craft bred boy hot on Sheghen's heels, Calver, Harper bred.

"You were unlucky and weren't musical?" Asked H'llon.

The boy shook his head.

"Oh I'm musical enough to make journeyman without trouble, I guess," he said with all the assurance and eleven turn old could muster. "But it's very wearing when music becomes more a chore than a pleasure."

H'llon nodded.

"We've a lad here – well, in the Weyr – who wanted to keep his muse as a hobby, though he passed easily enough to be an apprentice. He wanted to sail."

"What happened to him Sir?" Asked Calver.

H'llon grinned.

"He Impressed; so he sails and sings both as a hobby. If you passed the test, there'd be nothing to stop you transferring to the Harperweyr in the future if you change your mind; and they'd be happy for you to learn informally from them and join in sing-songs and concerts. We're very informal here."

Calver brightened.

"Truly, Sir? I – I don't want to lose music, but I just don't want to eat, sleep and breathe nothing but music."

H'llon nodded. Poor little sprout had been pushed too hard too soon by ambitious parents. He'd be lost from printing to the Harper Hall one day, no doubt; but then he could go to the Harper Hall as print-trained with stave blocks to print, to relieve the Printcraft Hall, and still produce revenue. H'llon put him through the tests.

For all his youth, Calver was deft and careful: marking the paper neatly with tiny folds before any printing. And his name was carefully reproduced in mirror image.

"You'll do," said H'llon. "We've Harpers in the printshops, so you will find music down here as well as in the Weyr; I'll ask T'rin to give you a trial to join in sessions with them. We have a close association with the Harpers. Send in… No, hop three doors down, and ask the senior apprentice to send klah for me, and for all those still waiting. It's time for a break."

"Yes Sir!" said Calver, running off.

Xxx

H'llon was exceedingly glad of the klah Faleron brought.

"How goes it, Master?" asked Faleron.

"Eleven seen, two definite, one possible," groaned H'llon. "Is it too tough a test?"

"But no, Master," said Faleron. "No point taking those who can't make the grade. You'll see if they're trying, even if they muff it. You don't just look at results. First lot of chattering idiots only came for the Dragon ride, I reckon."

That concurred so closely with H'llon's half-guilty musings that the Master laughed out loud.

"I'm afraid you might be right!" He said sadly.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Klah made H'llon feel more equal to tackling the remaining sixteen would-be printers.

The next boy was tall and well-built for his apparent age; his face was fresh but with a ruddiness that spoke of much time outdoors. He was well-dressed and wore the knots of the immediate family of the Holder of a minor hold.

"Younger son?" queried H'llon.

The boy nodded.

"Yes, sir. Sarander, my older brother is fourteen."

"Why printing?"

The boy grinned.

"Well, sir, partly, well, mostly, because I thought it would be exciting to be in something that's so new. I mean, I ought to have a craft, rather than be a useless ornament, because if Sarander did meet with a tragic accident – first egg forbid – I'd just have to give it up, I suppose. And I don't think much of our _local_ craft; and weaving, my mother's craft, didn't appeal to me, Though I've always enjoyed cutting tubers to make prints on fabric; and I thought about woodcrafting, then your new crafthall at the time I wanted to apprentice seemed almost too good to be true! I guess if you won't have me, I'll go for woodcrafting, but the other reason I want to try printing is that it so will irritate Master Sograny." He came up for air, and H'llon said cautiously,

"Oh?"

"Well, he and my father are always at loggerheads, because father is innovative, you see."

"Ah," said H'llon. "I cannot, of course, pass any comments on another master."

The boy flashed him a grin.

"Of course you can't, sir! But I'm too young to know any better," he said, gravely and with a twinkle.

"You are a horrid brat," said H'llon, without rancour. "What is your name?"

"Sarnathel, sir. It's a bit of a mouthful, most people call me Thel. Please, sir, can you tell me why paper marks? Master Sograny couldn't give my father a coherent explanation."

H'llon gave a wry smile.

"To prevent forgery," he said. "Anyone with a bit of smithcraft training and some equipment can forge mark pieces; to print a complex pattern AND make the right paper takes a lot more equipment and a lot more expertise. I don't say it won't ever happen, but it's not going to be as easy as it currently is."

"And you could print it in a hard-to-make colour, too, sir – like Master Zorg's special purple!" said Thel, his eyes gleaming. "Nobody makes it but him – and I guess for that, he'd sell you some."

H'llon stared.

"For that idea alone, you're in, lad!" he rumbled. "Innovation and ideas is what this new craft is all about. Though I'd like to see you take the test, imagination is what I need."

Thel beamed all over his face.

"Thank you sir! I'm glad my idea was helpful! What must I do?"

H'llon explained, and noted that the boy picked up the chocks of wood at the end of the table.

"I can't, I don't think, sir, register it properly without a registry table to join the patterns," he said.

"I know that; I want to see steadiness of hand and ingenuity in lining it up as best as possible," said H'llon.

The boy placed block to paper; but used the wood chocks to line up the edges of the ones to the left and below it. H'llon was pleased. Thel's mirrored name, too, was careful and sufficiently accurate to be noteworthy. As well as being imaginative, the boy was the steadiest handed and most innovative to date. H'llon had a vision of a great future for him, and fervently hoped that his brother would continue in good health!

oOo

It was harder to try to be objective to the several fumble-fisted youths who followed Thel; but H'llon had no intent of permitting anyone who just pressed the block down anyhow to have anything to do with his craft. When the next lad seemed to take as cavalier an attitude H'llon sighed; until he saw the result. The twelve repeats were in perfect line.

"Would you mind repeating that?" H'llon asked.

The boy grinned.

"Shall I do them as diamonds for a change?"

"Can you?"

"Well, sir, seeing the line is not exactly difficult, is it?"

"Just show me."

The diamonds were as well lined up.

H'llon nodded.

"You have a rare gift of perfect spatial perception – and yes, to most people, seeing the line IS difficult. What's your name?"

"Merbin, sir," the boy grinned with very white teeth in his very tanned face; by his garb, he came from Igen.

"Well, Merbin, you _will_ need to learn rules of how to line things up; if you progress in the craft you will need to know the rules both to teach others and for application where eye alone is not sufficient. I do NOT want to catch you skimping on that."

"Does that mean I'm in, sir?"

"Probably; I'd like to test your ability to think in mirror writing."

Merbin grinned, wrote out his name with his right hand, and without bothering to use the mirror to help him, switched hands and wrote it perfectly backwards.

H'llon had never seen anything like it!

If the boy learned the disciplines of the craft as well as having natural talent, he would go far!

The next lad, a boy called Ellir, from a small hold in Telgar, made a barely adequate showing. However, H'llon discovered in chatting that the boy's father had just died. Grief might affect his performance; and H'llon told him to wait. There was no point accepting all who might be adequate straight away; the Printmaster had no intention of taking more than a dozen, unless very exceptional circumstances warranted it.

The next boy printed with care, but could not make anything of writing backwards.

"Do you have trouble reading at all? Have your studies been interrupted or neglected?" asked H'llon, tactfully.

"No, sir, I be-ant no illeeterate! I just cannot see this as letters – it's nowt but a squiggle!" said the lad.

H'llon sighed.

"I'm sorry, but seeing things backward is the most integral part of the craft. I would suggest you might consider woodcrafting or weavercraft, for you made a fair job of the pattern printing."

The lad hung his head, disappointed, but nodded.

"Aye, sir, thank you," he said.

Had he insisted he could learn, H'llon would have been inclined to give him a trial for perseverance; as it was, it was another one whittled down.

The next was a girl, well-dressed.

"My name is Nanney, sir, from a minor hold in Lemos," she introduced herself.

"You wear no knots of ranking … but there is that about you which suggests it," said H'llon. "You are skilled in childcare and sewing."

"My mother is a byblow of Lord Larad's father; and I, too, am illegitimate," said Nanney. "My mother married the Holder's brother. I am of, but yet not of, the family; and I would rather make my way than be an unwed auntie to my step-siblings, their cousins and sundry descendents. Please, sir, how did you know about the childcare and sewing?"

"You have a neatly mended tear to your gown at the height it would be grasped by a toddling child; I see the outline of sewing scissors in your belt pouch, and what looks to be a child's ball," said H'llon.

"Oh, that's clear, sir, now you explain!" said Nanney. "I hope I pass; I do want to learn something hardly anyone else does!"

Her skills were good enough when she did the test, and H'llon passed her with no qualms.

Next was another girl, from a very different background, a local cothold. Leselly was a fragile-looking child only ten turns old, and told H'llon frankly that her parents needed to get rid of some of their eight daughters, and she was the eldest, and had to seek her living.

"I could weave, I suppose, but I'd like to be near dragons, and I think I'd like to do something out of the ordinary, too," she said. "And in a new craft, I do have a better chance of rising quicker, to send some marks home to my parents."

H'llon, ever soft hearted, would almost have taken her on the strength of that too-adult a way of looking at things; fortunately Leselly proved adept enough, and perfectly literate. There was a good circuit Harper, and her mother also read fluently and had been able to build on what the Harper taught.

"Would it relieve your parents if you stayed now rather than them having to bring you back?" asked H'llon.

Leselly nodded, her eyes filling with tears.

"I'll miss them lots, though," she said.

"I'll see that you get to visit regularly," said H'llon. "There's another girl staying, a bit older than you; she did NOT have the benefit of a good Harper. Perhaps you can help her."

Leselly smiled through her tears.

"Oh, I'd be happy to!" she said.

H'llon reflected how different were these parents, albeit with eight daughters to care for, who plainly loved their children and made sure their children knew it, from so many cotholders who wanted to know if they had a son or a brat, and valued their children only in how hard they might work. And usually valued their daughters not at all.

Two more hopeless ones followed; one, a girl, had no clue, the other H'llon discarded for being too certain that he already knew enough. It made him untrainable without more effort than a small craft could afford to give. Has it been an established crafthall, something might have been done with the boy, in having older apprentices to squash him well, but the squashing could not be guaranteed, and he would bring a bad atmosphere. After these two, a seahold lad named Hiirt talked his way in, by his belief that printing would one day unite Craft, Hold and Weyr as nothing else could; his skills were quite adequate. Menoon, another babe of ten, was determined to make a good showing, despite his clubfoot. His parents believed in him, he said.

"And quite right too," said H'llon. "We can do a few things to help straighten your foot a bit, if you'll take the pain. Brown Rider D'lon was a little younger than you when we started his treatment, but not by much. He runs as fast as any now, and has taken prizes in Weyr athletics contests. He's hungrier to win in his joy in being able to do as much as anyone!"

Menoon gave every scrap of his firm loyalty to H'llon in that instant!

"And THEN my father can tell the fools that he should have killed me to go to the Red Star!" Menoon said, apologising hastily, scared he would be in trouble, as H'llon's fair of firelizards scattered, screeching.

"Don't worry, son – just try not to mention the place again," said H'llon, soothing them. Apparently those who came to a new craft tended to have parents who were more than usually reasonable.

oOo

Of the final few, only Tarlon of High Reaches main hold made the technical grade; and H'llon was bothered by the eleven-turn-old boy's apparent hardness, and the jibe he made about Menoon.

"The club foot does not offset the boy's hands nor brain nor crafting ability," said H'llon, sharply. "And anyone who cannot keep a civil tongue between their teeth is no apprentice of mine. I'll hear no more such crackdust."

The way the boy cringed was what decided H'llon to take him. Any child made unkind by receiving unkindness need more help then censure. The Bronze Rider added kindly,

"You will find no blows beyond a light cuff for rebuke in these Halls; we despise any unkindness, of word or deed; for those who would hurt or comment on others, especially those seeming weaker than themselves, must be very small people inside themselves. And my door is ALWAYS open should you need to talk about anything."

"Thank you sir. I can't see that I would need to," said Tarlon, in a tight little voice.

There was something seriously wrong there.

H'llon had no doubt that he or his logicators would get to the bottom of it! He resolved to ask Duthi to look out for this one – the young harpertrained boy would know the factors that had led H'gey to become bullying Horgey before his accident. Then those harpertrained senses of one who was also a logicator might well extract what was wrong!

H'llon counted up his list.

There were nine definites, plus Linnara; and two he had asked to wait, Sheghan the woodcraft boy, and Ellir, the bereaved lad. They would bring the number up to the round dozen; it was worthwhile giving them a trial. Work would help Ellir to come to terms with his grief; Sheghen had some woodcrafting skills from his father that might make up for his age. Fifteen turns was late in life to start learning, but others had started as late and done well enough. Especially with a basic grounding in Woodcraft, the parent craft of Printing! The safety edicts set out by Three Woods Hall should have circulated by now, and Sheghen's father sounded sufficiently caring to have taught them to his son, too.

It looked like being a successful group. Four girls too – that would be a reasonable dormitory size to make up for Moora and Ipominea, Po of course being the one who was in charge there. Sheghen must, of course, head the dormitory of the new boys, in deference to his age and experience, but he seemed a reasonable lad. And H'llon backed any imp like Sarnathel – what a name! Thel was much preferable – to come up with something to deal with any bullying.

Thel's idea for using purple ink was an excellent one, too. H'llon intended to speak to Master Zorg as soon as possible. If all the borders were done with the purple ink, the central squares might be printed in black for the ten mark note, and purple again for the hundred mark note, making the highest denominations the hardest to forge, even if any theft of the incomplete borders was ever somehow effected. Duthi had done well so far, designing the square border with extremely complex and fine knotwork; the notes were to be just under the size of the width of the palm, and H'llon had suggested leaving a broad border and cutting into that with a die, making the edge of the square mark note slightly fluted, rather than making the easy straight cut that any man might do with a knife.

He did not think that even Geriana and her ingenious boys could copy one of the new notes in all the particulars he had chosen to make them special – not, at least, in a time that made it worth while!

H'llon sighed in satisfaction.

It was all going very well indeed!


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

It was nice, reflected Ipominea, to have the chance to get to know two more of the girls before they started properly. T'rin had loaned the Printhall I'linne to teach Leseta; and when the little girl found out that her Harper was her senior apprentice's sister, she was thrilled! She and Leselly seemed quite sweet children, and Linnara ready to be friendly with them, her lifelong malaise having left her a little childish. Or, thought Ipominea, more likely that the lack of any attention save blows from her father and surreptitious babying from her mother had caused this more than the illness itself. It was a pity that Moora seemed content to leave the children to run to Ipominea; Moora was quite self-sufficient, and without being unkind she made it clear that she wanted nothing to do with the babes!

Ipominea almost withheld her candidateship at this point; but they had viewed the eggs once, and L'exa had smiled at her kindly in the way the sharp-eyed young logicator recognised as the way the talented Gold Rider smiled on those she felt form a bond, especially those destined to be fellow female riders.

Ipominea took Linnara aside.

"Linn, you know they don't expect you to Impress until you've grown out of fitting, don't you?" she said.

Linnara stared.

"Do they think I'll grow out of it so I'll have a chance one day? That would be splendid! Yes, I know I'm not expected to, but it was so Jeinna could keep an eye on me. I guess I need not stand at all, but, well…"

"It's pretty exciting," said Ipominea. "And you'll be right there if your sister Impresses, and I reckon she will. Only – if I do, can you grow up quick and keep an eye out for Laseta and Leselly? Moora has her, er, studies to think of."

"You mean she's got her head high in the clouds about dragons and is too selfish to care about us little ones," said Linnara.

Ipominea shrugged.

"It's a blunt way to put it. Living in a dorm with other crafters will maybe help her to think more of others, but right now…."

Linnara nodded.

"Thank you for thinking me trustworthy."

Ipominea grinned.

"Oh you can be a scatty piece, but your heart is in the right place, fundamentally. And I don't know what the other new one will be like… she's kind of ranking, and I guess if she wants to craft she has all the indications of being essentially a decent sort. She's your age, a couple of turns or more older than the little kids, so she may learn more than Moora, who's a turn older than the two of you."

"Not that it means anything; I always forget that you're a turn younger than me."

Ipominea laughed.

"At least half of that is the eclectic vocabulary," she said. "Anyway, it may not be necessary; but better to arrange things in plenty of time."

Linnara nodded.

"Will you be coming back to the dorm if you Impress?"

"I guess not … they're not built to house dragons, you know! It won't stop us being friends, but I'll have a turn's hard work as a weyrling with the other weyrlings before I can apply myself seriously to my craft again. I could almost wish to wait another turn round, but now the dragonets have had the chance to feel us, it'd be churlish to let them down."

"Will you weyr near the Hall?"

"If I do Impress, yes, eventually. We're having weyrs dug over the woodcrafter cavern, for Impressed woodcrafters and printers, and tunnelways through for easy access. But I'll not count my dragon until she's hatched," added Ipominea severely, hoping to herself that she had felt a pull as well as correctly interpreting L'exa's expression.

oOo

Tahnee also had her own ideas; L'exa's smile to her had held sympathy.

"I'm not going to, am I?" Tahnee asked, bluntly.

"I don't think so; not this time. Too many girls, too few greens," said L'exa, who admired the girl's matter of fact straight speaking.

Tahnee nodded.

"Probably just as well, considering the look you gave our Po. It'd be impolite to withdraw, I suppose, but I can't deny I'd be as happy not to Impress right now."

L'exa shrugged.

"You may never Impress, you know; your craft is so very important to you. Like Geriana."

Tahnee nodded. "I have wondered that. Of course, I am newly a Journeyman, in an absolutely new craft. I might feel ready to open myself to dragons when the shine has rubbed off around the edges." She laughed. "Or maybe not! If I Impress in the future, I shall be overwhelmed by amazement that I ever existed without it, no doubt, but you don't miss what you don't have. And I have so much already: a dragon too would be scarily too much joy, and I'd start wondering when things were going to go disastrously wrong!"

L'exa nodded.

"I felt that way too," she said. "Those of us who have had bad experiences need to take our time learning that what we consider overwhelmingly wonderful, others take for granted."

Tahnee grinned.

"I can't work out if I'm envious that they've never had anything bad happen to them, or if I'm the lucky one for appreciating so much even simple things like having people love me."

"I'd never thought of that in as many words – but yes, it is a dilemma," said L'exa. "I think anyone who has happiness – found or as a lifelong thing – is lucky. Not all people achieve happiness, even when they have every reason for it."

Tahnee nodded soberly. L'exa understood, more than most people; and she understood L'exa more than most people. It was an understated friendship that sprang from that brief conversation; but a profound one for all that.

oOo

When hatching came, the Printcrafters were so excited to attend that some of the youngest were almost sick!

The impression of Telfer to dark Brown Vith was a joy for H'llon, Tahnee and Ipominea as well as for the woodcraft apprentices; Tahnee herself torn between sorrow and relief that she had not Impressed! There needed to be, after all, a decent Home Mother for the little girls; and Glenlys might be nice enough, but Tahnee thought her not as used to little ones as she, Tahnee, was.

Ipominea made straight for the egg she had thought she had felt a pull from; and waited.

It was a long wait, or it seemed so, but was worth it. Little Beth loved her!

Ipominea heard H'llon's whoop of delight; and her foster father was first to come and hug her!

"Which of your too many syllables shall we use in contraction?" he chuckled.

"Use Po to start," Ipominea suggested; for it was a nickname of affection that she associated with the first parental-type love she had ever known! "It IS my nickname," she pointed out.

R'gar came up.

"Po'nea," he said, firmly. "H'llon, get up into the tiers; there's trouble."

Po'nea glanced up.

A well-dressed man was shrieking imprecations that were most incomprehensible for his wrath; and his face was quite as purple as Master Zorg's special dye!

It all seemed to be about a boy called Rorik, or rather, R'rik, having Impressed a Green, for having finally settled down to weyr life after having been rather objectionable for a while. Po'nea did not know all the ramifications.

H'llon would sort it out, and was big enough to intimidate most people.

oOo

H'llon reached the boy's father as the man's protests reached a crescendo that THAT creature would warp his boy into One of Them and that he demanded IT be put down and the boy returned to him.

H'llon loomed at him; he had learned how to use his bulk as well as his authority. He presented the view of his Mastercrafter's knots so the Master could not avoid seeing them.

Young, H'llon might be; but the overall Master of a craft outranked any other Master regardless of whether Master Varik chose to ignore the authority of a Bronze Rider Wingleader.

"Stop making a fool of yourself and your craft" snapped H'llon "And if you dare to threaten a dragon again you'll be walking home forthwith!"

Varik pulled himself together at the threatening aspect of the giant young Bronze Rider; H'llon was furious at such comments and did not trouble to hide it.

Varik was furious too; he took the idea of his son being Impressed by a female dragon as a personal insult! He glowered.

"I want to go to my son" he said sullenly.

"Then give me your belt knife" said H'llon.

"What?"

"Give me your belt knife. You have threatened dragonkind in the presence of a Bronze Rider as witness; I don't trust you not to try to carry out your threat. It will be returned when you are back at your home" H'llon rumbled.

Varik flushed.

"Foolishness! You are quick to take up hot words – well if you must have it….." he fumbled with the knife as H'llon held out his hand silently.

oOoOo

H'llon escorted the angry Weaver to the Bowl, where R'rik was feeding Dilbeth, The boy grinned all over his face, still in the throes of the joy of Impression; and the smile slipped as he saw his father's furious face to be replaced by an expression of wary incomprehension.

"Father! See, I did Impress at last, isn't she beautiful?" he said, hoping to appease the man with his own success.

"Beautiful? No! It's an abomination! It'll twist you to become a girl-boy!" Varik almost spat.

Rorik blinked.

"But father, I was already gay!" he said "I only realised it recently, but it's worked out perfectly…." He tailed off and mover protectively in front of Dilbeth as his father raised a hand.

H'llon, for all his size, was fast; and he caught the man's wrist before the vicious blow could land, bearing the arm inexorably - and it has to be said, painfully – down.

"Striking a dragonman can mean exile to the Eastern Isles" the Bronze Rider growled.

"But he's my son! I have every right…."

"You have NO rights over a dragonman!" said H'llon sharply. "He is Weyrfolk; and worthy of honour. TRY to behave with the honour your knots as Master demand."

"Then he is no son of mine; I never want to see the filthy little turd again!" spat Varik.

"Such is your choice" said H'llon. "We wouldn't want you here anyway unless you could learn to behave like a civilised human being. Green Rider!" he called to a youngster with a Green dragon assisting passengers to their rides "Master Varik is leaving for High Reaches Hold; give him his knife back after you land there only."

"I'll sit with no girl-boy!" Varik spat.

"I'm a girl" said L'nna shortly "Can't you tell the difference Master? Or do you blow both ways that you cannot tell a boy from a girl?"

Varik almost raised his hand and fought with himself to resist the urge.

"Wise move" H'llon rumbled. "L'nna, that was pert. He is a Mastercrafter; apologise."

"I apologise for the manner of making the remark" said L'nna "But unless he's going to apologise for not being able to tell girls and boys apart I shan't go any further, sorry Bronze Rider. You can ride in front of me Master: I'd like to keep an eye on a man who is not to be trusted with his own knife."

oOoOo

H'llon worried until L'nna returned; she looked rueful.

"I'd better report to T'bor" she said. "The Weaver tried to take the knife back before I landed, grappled with me. I wasn't about to take any chances with my life or Polleth's so I took him by the scruff and dropped him off. I dropped the knife down to him too; but unfortunately it was too tightly sheathed to come out and spear him" she added regretfully.

"How high were you?" asked H'llon.

"Oh, only a length or so….. won't be worse than a few broken bones unless he landed on his head when there'd be no damage at all."

"L'nna!" H'llon had to work not to laugh.

"Sorry, H'llon. Sorry to piss off YOU not for disrespecting HIM" she amended.

H'llon gave up.

The whole family were just as outspoken and if K'len had never been broken of it, it was doubtful that his sisters would be either.

oOo

T'bor heard the report; and shrugged.

"L'nna, you had no choice" he said "Protecting your dragon and yourself was the first priority and I'll make it clear in a report to Lord Bargen. He takes a dim view of those who manhandle weyrwomen. H'llon, will you go to Master Zorg at the Weavercrafthall? This fellow may lodge a complaint with him, and as a Master yourself I think you should get your retaliation in first."

H'llon nodded.

"I've a matter I wish to discuss with him anyhow" he said.

oOoOo

H'llon was, once this was sorted out, able to go and visit Master Zorg, to whom he also planned to make a report on the disgraceful incident. Master Zorg was something of a snob; and was happy to receive a Bronze Rider, even had H'llon not been a Craftmaster too. The Master took a dim view of Varik's behaviour, as H'llon had hoped he would; and the two Masters exchanged views on whose who brought their respective crafts into disrepute. H'llon had seen enough instances of Woodcrafters who had done so, after all.

Glad to get the unpleasantness over, H'llon moved on to the business of using special purple ink.

Once Master Zorg had understood that H'llon did not want the secret of the colour, and indeed preferred that no single crafthall held the secrets to both paper and ink, he was more than happy with the idea! Zorg took H'llon for a tour of his crafthall, even showing him the rare preserved scraps of silk, irreproducible without the weaving worms that the Ancients had not been able to adapt to life on Pern; and the complex brocades that even Fort's specialist Weaverhall could not fully reproduce.

"The pulleys on the draw looms have been useful, however," said Zorg. "The ones you suggested to Lynger."

"I'm glad," said H'llon. "They were an idea of the same apprentice who forged that mark for me … she Impressed today!" he grinned all over his face.

"A loss to the craft, surely?" said Zorg.

H'llon shook his head.

"Oh, no! We continue to train at High Reaches – once the dragonets are grown enough to need less care. Busy Riders are less likely to get into the sort of trouble we know too well in the Reaches."

Zorg nodded. It was rare for dragonmen to even tacitly acknowledge the bad behaviour of T'kul, especially to bring it up first! He appreciated the confidence shown in his discretion. He had a sudden thought.

"Will there be the option for the boy R'rik to go to Rivenhall, say, to finish his training to Journeyman?" he asked.

"I see no reason why not. He can be their smokeless weyrling while he confirms; I understand his SKILL is adequate, it was the attitude his father instilled that his Master objected to."

Zorg beamed.

"I'm glad. And you will give the lad my personal congratulations on Impressing?"

"Of course, Master Zorg; I shall be glad to. Listen, I have an idea… based on a musical box, actually … I think I can make brocade weaving much easier, and therefore more profitable. It wouldn't matter, would it, if the threads were pushed up not pulled?"

"No … so long as the shuttle could pass through."

"Good. I need to work on that," said H'llon, and wandered off, reaching in his pouch for a piece of paper to start to draw out ideas. Zorg laughed. He had seen pattern designers with the same look on their faces.

R'rik was borrowed by H'llon as soon as R'gar would let him go; and H'llon put his idea to the lad.

"I'm thinking of a drum with thick paper covering it, pierced with holes; and the holes permit spring-loaded pegs to come through them in a pattern and push up certain threads. Would that work? The drum would be turned by the next row of pattern, each time the shuttle was thrown."

R'rik frowned.

""The pattern would have to be exaggerated in the weft direction on the paper to have large enough pegs," he said. "But I don't see why not … could you build a loom? It would hardly need to be more than a table look with one heddle…"

H'llon nodded.

"No problem; that simple a loom I can build in an afternoon. Spring loaded pegs would be harder."

"I've been drawmonkey on my father's look, I know how brocading works … I could work out a pattern and see how much exaggeration was needed," said R'rik."

"Good lad! I reckon we'll be in business!" said H'llon. "After all, with repeat patterns, the logical way to share them between Halls would be to have the pattern printed on the paper, and each Hall cut the holes when they receive the pattern, so it IS a printcraft matter."

"And if there are blocks for each pattern, they can be reprinted when the first gets old and torn," said R'rik. "I'd need paper."

"Of course you will. And we will now experiment with how thick it must be to push pegs down whilst being thin enough to turn on a drum."

Po'nea was listening in shamelessly.

"Build the drum with a plate to depress the pegs as the first stage before they turn," she said. "Saves wear on the paper. Once they're down, only the ones where there are holes will rise for the next thread."

"I like," said H'llon.

He went off happily to build his newest invention!

 _Author's note: the French invented the jacquard loom in the 18_ _th_ _century. Computer programmers later stole the idea of punchcards and called it COBOL_


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

H'llon addressed his senior apprentices and Journeymen before the new children arrived.

"Remember, these kids will NOT be working as hard as you young people have pushed yourselves to do; and I am proud of you for it! But they will start to learn our craft at a more reasonable rate for children to learn, as you all started in the crafts from which you came. You older ones will also not have to work as hard as you have been, to learn the more subtle mysteries of the craft; some of which we have yet to discover. I hope you feel refreshed by your holiday, and are ready to apply yourselves once more."

There was a chorus of,

"Yes, SIR!"

oOo

The youngsters came in during an afternoon, and were settled in their dormitories. They were then shown around by seniors in small groups, so they would find their way to their separate classes. The timetable was pasted up in each dormitory, and in the eating hall, so there could be no excuse for not knowing where to be. Each child was issued with a leather apron, an idea H'llon had taken from Master Zorg's dyecraft shop, and oversleeves, pulling tight at the wrist to protect clothes and skin from inks and acid splashes. It was an idea he also passed to the Weyrartists and to Master Bendarek for the wood dye workshop. Each child also received a notebook of sewn paper leaves, a metal ruler marked in thumbs and tenths, the standard H'llon had decided to work to; and a graphite pencil. They were adjured solemnly to take care of their possessions. Loss or damage to them would occasion a fine.

They were duly awed.

H'llon continued to press the point of care as he welcomed them; for as well as hoping they would feel at home in the craft, he pointed out that the craft dealt with poisonous and dangerous substances and warned them not to touch anything without permission.

It was a speech H'llon felt needed judging finely; he did not wish to scare any sensitive souls too much, but nor did he want acid-burned children for the want of knowing that not all liquids were water, even if they looked like it!

The children seemed duly impressed; and on the morrow, lessons would start in earnest.

oOo

It was only a few days after the opening of the Hall to these new ones when Thel of Keroon burst into H'llon's study, dragging Tarlon with him.

"What's the meaning of this?" demanded H'llon, shocked.

"Please, Master, I despise sneaks, but if he's too stupid to listen about spoiling the plate for the mark notes I didn't have much choice, did I?" said Thel.

H'llon blinked; and his face went hard.

"Explain," said the Bronze Rider.

"I say Senior Apprentice Duthi's workroom door ajar, and glows in there; and when I looked in, Tarlon was there. I asked him what he was doing and he said he was going to scratch the word 'poo' across the plate in the wax." He paused as H'llon gasped in horror. "And I said, even if it WAS a private project of Duthi's, it was pretty mean, but that to do that would cost the craft thousands of marks, and he said I was daft and a spoilsport. So … so I brought him."

"Sneak!" said Tarlon, firmly.

"Shells and shards, was much destroyed?" asked H'llon anxiously, ignoring Tarlon.

Thel shook his head.

"He'd started the first downward stroke, mostly on the middle where there's no design yet… some of the knotwork was crossed."

H'llon sighed in relief.

"That can be fixed without too much loss of time," he said. "Very well, Thel, you did your duty and you may go now. Thank you for knowing the difference between sneaking, and saving the existence of the crafthall. Go straight to Duthi and explain what happened, but without naming names. Run along!" H'llon had no intention of disciplining the other boy in front of one of his fellow. He turned to Tarlon.

"Sneak, you say, Tarlon," his voice came from _Between_. "And by stopping you, Thel has saved you a massive punishment had you succeeded in your puerile stupidity. He spoke truth about the cost to the Craft; and you or your parents would have had to pay that. Do you have any idea how long Duthi has been working on that? Or why?"

The boy shook his head, sullenly.

"Thought it was a frame for a picture of his current lover," he said.

"It is not," said H'llon with a snap. "Duthi has set aside all personal projects in this extremely important work for the whole craft. It is the design for the new paper one hundred mark note, which, to prevent copying, has to be exceedingly complex. Duthi is of Journeyman standard in the discipline of etching; and has been working on that for me for the last two months, not even taking the holiday I gave the others. Because he cares that the Craft Hall should succeed. A journeyman can expect to be paid around eighty marks for a month's work; so you have already tried to destroy his work worth 160 marks, without even considering other, more important matters. If these plates are not complete by the agreed date we contracted with all the other crafts, we will have to pay a fine of one hundred marks a day over. So now you would owe a further sixty days worth – which is six thousand marks on top of the one hundred and sixty. Would your father be pleased to pay that for your, er, sport?"

Tarlon went white. He looked terrified.

"He … he couldn't pay that."

"And I know you have trouble at home – but that's no excuse," said H'llon. "Were it not for the fact that I quickly inferred that you do have trouble at home, I'd expel you forthwith from the Hall for this. I would probably do so even if it was meant to hurt a senior apprentice who has done you no harm, but even more because it was more than that. Because if you had succeeded in this thoughtless prank, the reputation for unreliability in these early days could be the difference between the craft succeeding or failing, and you and all the other apprentices failed apprentices of a failed craft."

Tarlon gasped.

"Good," said H'llon. "I think you are finally beginning to grasp the enormity of such vandalism. The door was locked, by the way; how did you get in?"

Tarlon flushed.

"I … I used some bent wire to shift the tumblers."

"Indeed. Well, my credit to you for confessing that honestly; but has it never occurred to you that we lock doors for a very good reason? Certainly not the very trivial one of protecting the love tokens of the seniors' inamorata of the moment. We would not expect anyone to be so dishonourable as to break a trust and destroy the work of others." Tarlon shivered as the Master glared at him. "Very well; you need to know the value of work. I think two months, such as Duthi has laboured will be sufficient; you need to be kept occupied as you cannot be trusted to occupy your leisure hours in honourable pursuit. Therefore for the next two months, your two hour leisure period will be spent helping Journeyman Saralsi in the casting shop, seeing to the fire, raking it out, cleaning out moulds, and whatever else he sees fit to set you to do. Perhaps that will give you respect for another craftsman's work. Do anything of this kind again and back home you go."

"I .. I shan't, sir," said Tarlon, miserably. "I … I just wanted to pay Duthi back."

"Pay DUTHI back? I don't understand!" rumbled H'llon. "I've known Duthi for turns – I'd have said he was one of the most harmless lads going!"

He had not personally known Duthi, but T'rin had written of his friends, and it was a legitimate simplification. If there had been anything unpleasant about Duthi, T'rin would have found out.

"He asked nosy questions," said Tarlon, resentfully, "About my home life! He – I think he must want to use my arse!"

"You must blame me for that misconception," said H'llon. "I could see you were unhappy. I asked Duthi, as a fellow apprentice, albeit senior, to see if he couldn't find out why, and help you. A close friend of his was beaten and used by a family member in his childhood; Duthi perhaps felt that someone was doing the same to you, and asked about it to remove the embarrassment for YOU by raising a difficult subject. For his friend's sake, he agreed to help you."

"Why would he?" the voice was sceptical.

"This once I will overlook the insolence in your tone; for fear and pain makes a hard exterior. Why would he? Because he's a kind lad who has had his own share of unhappiness, and now he is happy would like to share that gift. If you cannot learn to accept kindness, Tarlon, you will always be unhappy, because whoever has hurt you cannot hurt you as much as you can hurt yourself by shutting yourself in a prison of your own resentment. I will not insist that you beg Duthi's pardon; but I will ask you to try to go to him and explain why you did this. It will be hard; but he will think better of you if you can manage it. For the fear that he was planning to hurt you, I will reduce your punishment to a month; there was some small excuse. Very well; you may go."

Tarlon fled, thankfully.

oOo

H'llon went to inspect the damage, finding Duthi already there.

"Who can have done such a terrible thing?" cried Duthi, white faced and almost in tears. "Is someone trying to sabotage the craft? Someone from Sifer?"

"Fortunately not," rumbled H'llon. "It was a lad who is very mixed up and mistook the hand of friendship for an attempt at seduction. I HOPE he will have the courage to come to you and explain. If so, I trust you to be gentle."

Duthi was horrified.

"Surely he could not …. Jays! Yes, Master, if you want me to be gentle, I will, though I don't feel it right now!"

"Nothing wrong with telling him that. You can repair it?"

Duthi nodded.

"A day's work lost, no more; fortunately. If that boy Thel hadn't come along…"

"I don't think I'm exaggerating," said H'llon, soberly, "But I say we owe Thel the survival of the craft. We've staked a lot of our reputation on this, as on the Journeyman certificates. Think what Sograny and Sifer would have made of us being late with the notes! I'm only thankful that it was just a mixed up boy and not a spy, but when you suggested that, my heart stopped for a moment. We must be alive to the possibility of one being sent."

Duthi shuddered.

"We must be vigilant," he said, "and I don't reckon you're wrong about what we owe Thel, not just for being nosy, but in recognising the importance and going against the boyish code of sneaking by realising it went beyond that. I'm not sure it would be good to tell him, though. Not at his age."

H'llon nodded.

"I believe I blurted out something in my shock, but there should be no more said about it. I'll tell him when he makes Journeyman," he said.

oOo

H'llon banged the table for silence before food was served for the following breakfast.

"I want to push home a few truths that obviously went in one ear and out the other on the first day," he said, frowning ominously. "A foolish apprentice managed to unlock a locked door with the purpose in mind of a childish and – had the child but thought of it – dishonourable prank. No, I'm not going to say who it is," he added as waves of questions hummed through the two tables. "Punishment has been given and accepted and the fault acknowledged, and the matter is over. BUT I want to reiterate that doors are not locked for fun. We have dangerous things here; acids that can burn though they look like pure water. Inks that are poisonous. A waterwheel that could drown a stupid and careless apprentice, or crush him to death, or both at once. And molten metal that could kill you if it landed in the wrong place. I did not want to frighten you at first, and providing you obey the rules and do as you are told, there is nothing to fear. All dangerous things are locked away, as well as those things which, being vital to the craft as craft secrets, should not be viewed or tinkered with by all and sundry. For the rest, we rely on your sense of honour not to interfere with the belongings or work of another. BUT!" his voice rose sharply, making them jump, since it was a tone in which he could bellow across his entire flight of Riders, "If anyone else enters a locked room, unless with the purest of motives, to, say, put out a fire, then that apprentice will be leaving the crafthall the same day. Do I make myself clear?"

"Sir, yes sir!" chorused the apprentices.

"Pellucidly," murmured Duthi, feeling that the end of the Harpers had to be kept up by someone, as wordy Po'nea was not available to do it instead. Tarlan had not spoken to him; but the boy had made an attempt to start, and had backed out. Hopefully he would recover his courage!

oOo

Tarlon had his faults; cowardice was not one of them.

He had backed down the first time, because Journeyman Elerel had been approaching, waving to Duthi. The boy came up to the older lad after breakfast.

"Please, senior apprentice, may I speak to you privately?" he asked.

"Certainly," said Duthi. "We shan't be disturbed in the workroom I'm using for etching."

Tarlan glanced involuntarily at the waxed sheet of brass as he went in.

"No, I haven't repaired it yet," said Duthi. "I was planning on spending today on that; Journeyman Elerel has released me from duties today to do so, as craft business supersedes teaching."

Tarlan burned redder.

"You – you know it was me?"

"With a look like that? An idiot could scarcely miss it. The Master said he hoped the culprit would come to me with an explanation that might stop me being incandescently furious. I'm ready to listen. Take a seat." Duthi tried copying T'rin's level tone when dealing with miscreants.

Tarlon stumbled through his explanation. Duthi nodded.

"I see." He said. "A creep like you seem to have taken me for would deserve punishment – and THAT, my fine young idiot, would deserve to be reported to the Master. NOBODY has the right to force themselves on anyone else, in craft or hold or weyr. Wouldn't you expect, er, Leselly to report a senior who suggested sex to her?"

Tarlon's colour deepened yet more.

"People believe it of girls."

"That, you poor prune, was why I introduced the subject – so you knew you'd be believed if that was what it was!" Duthi said.

Tarlon brightened some.

There was a considerable improvement in being called a poor prune over being castigated as a puerile idiot. Duthi went on,

"If I guessed off the mark, I apologise the more for upsetting you – only I've seen some signs I though suggestive. And if it's not that, it's serious bullying you've been suffering."

"You … you weren't off the mark," said Tarlon, quietly. "Only … only it's my father's best friend, and … and I was scared when the Master said he'd known you for turns in case you… if he wouldn't believe it if you did … but you don't look at me the same, and I should have realised … when I first told father he called me a liar and wicked, and he beat me; and how would he think I could make that up? And he's hated me ever since!"

"And when was that?"

"I … several turns ago. I think I was seven."

Duthi said several of the words he had learned from his seabred friend Shoris, which grasp of vocabulary shocked and impressed Tarlon in equal measure.

"Your father was stupid enough to think that a seven turn old babe would know enough to tell lies about that? Where had his wits gone dancing? Your father has tunnel snakes loose in the upper passages! Or … you say he's hated you; is he cruel to you?"

The boy shrugged.

"He calls me liar all the time and beats me. Just for being, sometimes, I guess," he said.

"Huh. So the creep does believe you deep down, but would rather pretend to himself that his son is a liar than believe such things of his friend," said Duthi, with sudden shrewd insight. Not for nothing was he a logicator! "Do you have any little brothers?"

"Yes, sir; one. I've two older sisters, then two younger, and my brother, who's four, and the baby is a girl."

"Hopefully too young for this creep to start on," said Duthi, grimly.

Tarlon gasped and put his hands to his mouth, almost like a girl; he retched.

"No!" he cried, jumping up.

"Sit down, laddie," said Duthi. "There are ways to sort this out. Method one; you denounce the fellow to a Bronze Rider – like the Master – in the presence of his dragon, to read the truth of your words. Method two; we get a skilled fighter to force a duel on the fellow and kill him. Method three; you make a deposition to a Harper instead of a Bronze Rider if you prefer. Either one of course would go to Lord – Bargen is your lord, isn't he?" the boy nodded, and Duthi went on, "Method four, we publicly announce him as a child spoiler and let HIM call justice. That's all I can think of off the top of my head."

"My father would kill me if I denounce his friend!"

"Can't. You belong to the Master during your apprenticeship," said Duthi laconically. "Question is, do you prefer to try to get a better relationship with your father by lying – and it doesn't sound as though you have ANY kind of relationship with him right now – or do you want to do what you know is right, for the sake of your little brother and other little boys?"

Tarlon buried his face in his hands.

"I suppose I have to denounce him, don't I?" he said. "If he gets duelled, father will wonder if I told, so it might as well be done honestly."

"Good lad," said Duthi. "It may lose your father; and through him, your siblings. But it will save that lad, and I'll do my damndest when he's older – if the kid is taught to shun you – to see he learns the truth. C'mon; let's go to the Master."

"But … you have time to repair …"

"I'll just have to work harder later," said Duthi. "Work for the crafthall also means work for the wellbeing of every member of the crafthall. No hall without crafters, and indeed, no crafters without drudges to see to them."

And on that note he swept Tarlon off.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

Tarlon found Melth rather intimidating at first, and the big Bronze obligingly backed away to a distance, for the lad to tell his tale.

H'llon was almost more angry that a man who had been idolised by the lad had betrayed the child's trust than over the hurting of him physically. And he was furious that a man should not take his own son's word.

He took deposition to Lord Bargen and left it in that most capable Lord Holder's hands. Bargen himself was not happy at the tale.

"The Harper Hall expects to find that up to two children in every hundred have been abused, beaten, neglected or otherwise betrayed by those they look to," said H'llon. It was a statistic that T'rin had been putting together from apprentice and candidate reports, taking into account that many people who came as candidates did so to flee from abuse. The logicators at the woodcraft hall had done their best to help with the statistics, and Lord Groghe had winnowed his way through his own Hold to add Hold statistics to T'rin's work. The incidence was at its highest in cotholds. It did not begin to cover the abuses suffered by the Holdless.

"A sad state of affairs," said Bargen. "But knowing this, I can set the Harpers to look more closely and report any suspicions. Any decent person would rather be investigated and exonerated than let their children be hurt."

"With respect, my lord, I'd keep it discreet," rumbled H'llon. "Any decent fellow accused will find his neighbours saying 'no smoke without fire' and trying him regardless of exoneration. And there are cases that look bad; we have a carter whose son is dying of a wasting disease, and the lad looks as though he's been cruelly beaten as he comes out in bruises from just touching against things. I've seen it. But his father is the gentlest of men."

"I'll bear it in mind," said Bargen. "Discreet is what Harpers are supposed to do; I need a team of harper-logicators."

"I'm sure that there will be teams available soon," said H'llon. "Try asking!"

"I shall," said Bargen. "Should be a team in every major hold, and patrolling lesser ones too."

oOo

Meanwhile, Duthi saw the Journeymen and told them that the Master had excused Tarlon lessons because of bad news from home; and took the boy into his workshop to chat to, while he repaired the damaged plate.

It gave Tarlon too a great appreciation of the patience required to produce such a work! He asked sensible questions, and Duthi tried not to feel impatient in pausing to answer them. He had already taken advice from Geriana in how to put things right; Geriana had told him that the mark of a professional artist was knowing how to make mistakes look intentional if you couldn't repair them, but that with a technical craft like etching, wax was malleable enough to repair. It was, after all, a question of making sure there were no untoward bits of brass able to be touched by acid.

oOo

H'llon made a further announcement at the evening meal; and this time he did not look stern.

"One of the senior apprentices, who does Journeyman-quality work in some regards, I had initially decided to give his Journeyman's knots in a few months, as he is still learning some aspects of the craft. However, he has handled a recent problem in such a mature and careful way that I am promoting Duthi to Journeyman forthwith. I understand he was already close in his previous apprenticeship as Harper in any case; so Duthi, walk if you please, and receive your knots and warrant.

Duthi was quite overcome!

And nobody clapped louder than Tarlon.

oOo

H'llon reflected dryly that it would not be long before Thel would be ready – and would, like Po'nea, be held back purely on age.

Thel went up to Tarlon, and H'llon eavesdropped shamelessly.

"Look here, Duthi's been all right to you, and you look kind of more … well, at peace; so I guess you pulled that daft stunt for what seemed like a good reason. Can we put the past behind us and shake?" he held out his hand.

Tarlon hesitated.

"Friends let people down," he blurted out.

Thel's eyebrows went up.

"Then I guess you've had some pretty rotten friends who aren't any such thing," he said. "You want to tell me about it?"

"Dunno," said Tarlon.

"Well, I'll not try to force a confidence. You can shake and start again, you know, even if you don't want to be friends; cos if the Master is satisfied with your reasons, it'd be poor of me to be mad at you. So long as you know WHY I had to stop you."

Tarlon nodded and tentatively took his hand to shake.

"One day, maybe I'll tell you," he said. "But I can't right now."

Thel punched him lightly on the arm.

"No problems! Join us all for goal ball later?"

Tarlon nodded.

"Tomorrow at noon, anyhow; my evenings are punishment for the next month."

Thel nodded.

"Well, you're taking it like a man. Good luck!"

oOo

Thel had taken a hand with Menoon too, to drag him in to play goalball. Asked to play, Menoon had said, rather bitterly,

"Haven't you noticed my twisted foot?"

Thel looked surprised.

"No, not really," he said. "You get around just fine, I thought you'd sprained it a little."

"Well, I was born with it."

"Oh! Well the other one's all right, isn't it?"

"Yes, but I can't run."

Thel grinned.

"Well, 'tain't fair to leave you out; we'll all play hopping instead. Should be hilarious because we'll all fall over all the time!"

"Oh, you think I'm hilarious, I suppose?" said Menoon.

"I think you're daft," said Thel. "If you think anyone is going to find another chap's pain funny. I meant, we'll be hilarious, I bet your balance will be better than the rest of us! And if your other foot is stronger to compensate, you'll do better than us hopping! Don't you WANT to have fun?"

Menoon did, of course; but he had grown an unfriendly skin, expecting unkindness form those outside his family. He agreed, rather ungraciously, but was soon laughing as happily as the other boys as they hopped breathlessly about with the ball to try to get it through the hoop that H'llon had put up in the courtyard for the apprentices to exercise.

"They say it can be pulled straight," said Menoon, rather abruptly to Thel. "If I exercise it and have it stretched every day, and I'm to have a straightening brace like a boy who is now a dragonman. It's going to hurt."

"Well, then I think you're brave," said Thel. "Because it's going to hurt every day for ages. And we'll rally round if the pain makes sleeping hard, so you're tired, you know; and I guess you'll be allowed fellis?"

Menoon nodded.

"I have a bottle to keep by my bed," he said. "It has one dose in it, so I can't accidentally take too much."

Thel nodded.

"Yes, 'cos it makes you a bit fuzzy-headed," he said. "Well if you think you need more, wake me up, and I'll go get a healer, all right?"

"Thanks," said Menoon. "You're all right."

Thel did not take long to establish himself as the leader amongst the apprentices!

Sheghen, older than the others, did not resent that; he was hoping by hard work to pull away from the youngsters and become a senior apprentice, and H'llon had every expectation of the boy succeeding. In fact, Sheghen had to be sent forcibly out to play and take the air at times!

oOo

The courtyard was a pleasant place to play; H'llon had designed it that way. Each of the four wings, including the one which was the cliff face, had a single-storey covered loggia, that encircled the whole courtyard, including the gap for the entrance. This would allow for races in the most inclement weather, as well as safe passage for adults whilst the boys played in the courtyard proper, and as a shortcut during Threadfall. H'llon had every intention, when Thread fell, of encouraging the boys to stand in the loggia to accustom themselves to seeing Thread; for he intended the Printcrafters to continue the tradition of the Woodcrafters of going out before Fall was over to protect the stands of flax that were to provide much of the raw materials for paper. A stream had been dammed for the purpose of providing suitable water meadows, and the first crop had been sown. It would be ready to plant out after the first Fall, so no walking of sweep would be required for this first time. It would give the apprentices a chance to watch and experience Thread first hand.

The children played happily, unaware of this; they were overjoyed to have a goalball ring provided for their use, a Kabbadi pitch marked out, and climbing bars to exercise on as well! H'llon had grown up climbing trees and considered it good and healthy exercise. Oddly enough, his fear of heights never seemed to affect him in trees, only on cliffs! He had designed a metal frame to give as good a simulation of tree climbing as possible, with bars to swing from and swarm along. He took his responsibilities to the youngsters very seriously; being a Craftmaster was about more than being at the top of his craft, but about standing in the place of a parent to the youngsters under him! And that duty meant that the children must have adequate exercise as well as work; and H'llon saw to it that the youngsters were chased outside for fresh air for an hour in the afternoon every day before returning to their lessons. Tarlon, therefore, although losing his free leisure time, had the chance to mix with the others, and when H'llon showed him Lord Bargen's judgement, he broke down and went to tell Thel the whole.

H'llon had edited slightly what Bargen had said. The Lord Holder had investigated how many other boys had been abused by the miscreant – there had been several – and had ordered him chained out during Fall.

It was a terrible punishment.

It had been a terrible thing that he had done, for he was a supervisor and had used his position of trust.

H'llon considered the betrayal of a child's trust the worst crime any man or woman could commit.

As to Tarlon's father, Bargen had ordered that he would have nothing more to do with any of his children as he could not be trusted to carry out the duties of a parent as laid down in the Charter, but would have his pay docked appropriately to pay for their upkeep.

His wife elected to stay with her children rather than with her husband; a decision H'llon approved. Bargen had written for the Bronze Rider's private eyes that it was the first time in her life that the woman had found herself a backbone; and she should have every support, even if that meant Bargen secretly funding her as a pensioner.

Tarlon, in common with all the boys harmed, would receive an award from the goods and chattels of his abuser. The sum was to be determined on their sale. He had no dependants, so Lord Bargen proposed to divide the lot between his victims. This was what H'llon had shown the lad, rather than the details of the execution.

Tarlon was overwhelmed; that Lord Bargen just took his word, albeit backed by a Bronze Rider, after having been accused of being a liar.

Thel listened to Tarlon's story in horror.

"I can't imagine my father not believing me in any matter," he said. "You'll want to keep in touch with your mother and siblings, of course; but any time you want, you can come back with me in the holidays. My father would be pleased to receive any friend of mine."

"What would your father do if a friend of his did that to you?" asked Tarlon.

"Rip off his head and piss down his neck, I should think," said Tarlon. "It's what fathers are for. I guess he might ask for an explanation first, but you just don't DO that sort of thing! And it's a serious betrayal of friendship to hurt your own friend's kid!"

Tarlon gazed on Thel with envy.

To be so sure of his father's belief in him!

"I expected MY father to believe in me, you know," he said. "I wanted to know why I had to be punished so bad by his friend."

"Huh," said Thel, "I'll write to my father and ask what he'd do. Then you'll see what."

oOo

As Thel had an excellent relationship with his father, the man himself arrived by dragon demanding to know who had hurt his son.

Thel pacified his angry parent by explaining that it was a friend of his, and he wanted his own father's views and advice!

The Holder had his own opinions of Tarlon's father, when told the story, and readily agreed that Tarlon should have a second home with him! His suggestion had been to carve out the tripes of any man who had hurt his son, cook them and make the miscreant eat them. Thel was most proud of his father's originality.

Holder Sarnand apologised to H'llon for butting in; and H'llon pointed out that under the circumstances, with the rather badly constructed and emotional letter of an indignant twelve-turn-old, he'd blame him for NOT butting in and did he want to see around while he was here, after a glass of Tillek white.

Sarnand was delighted; he believed that innovation was important to prevent stagnation, and was fascinated to see the sketches for the new notes. The plate was, H'llon felt, a craft secret.

Sarnand also bought a large number of blank leaves of paper, and several children's books for the Hold Harper to use, and commented that with such enterprise, every cot would have several books in it.

"We can hope so," said H'llon. "It's what we are aiming for; not to replace Harpers, but to enhance their work. And for entertainment too!"

"Yes; and that for adults too. If only you could write out the adventures and tales of derring-do of dragonmen, many would read them, just as tales, not turned into ballads, and without obviously salutary messages," suggested Sarnand.

It was another idea to consider!

oOo

With Tarlan settling down, and Menoon forgetting to be snippy, since the other youngsters ignored his club foot most of the time, it looked like being a calmer place of learning. Even Linnara believed that things would go smoothly for a while – or at least as smoothly as they might be with a bunch of high spirited youngsters around!

It is true that Senior Apprentice Faleron, inclined to push the boys harder than strictly necessary whilst showing them the intricacies of paper making, found his underwear missing one evening because someone had taken it to the top of the climbing frame and left it there, like pennants blowing in the wind. It is also to be noted that Journeyman Glenlys had spoken sharply to Senior Apprentice Faleron for speaking vengeful words when his boots were filled with paper pulp because he had slapped Laseta for a question about his being Holdless, with as much tact as any eleven-turn-old can muster. Glenlys tole Faleran that it served him right, for being so touchy about trivialities, and he should be glad that the child's friends had not reported it officially. Once he had cooled off, Faleran did appreciate the unofficial rebuke from below, and its resourcefulness; and apologised to Laseta into the bargain, and truce was called. But these incidents were minor in nature, and scarcely deemed worthy of notice.

The affair of the well-sooted chairs at the Journeymen's table called retribution on the heads of the perpetrators: Thel, Tarlon, Menoon, Merbin and Linnara, and those involved had to wear the trousers of the affected Journeymen while the soot was beaten out with a slipper. Linnara was watched carefully to make sure this did not bring on a fit; but when H'llon dithered about permitting her to share the punishment of the others she had protested that she wasn't going to be a quitter. H'llon was proud of her for that, though had he but known it, Linnara considered the slippering to be hardly more than the light cuffs that were sometimes handed out. She had known real beatings.

The culprits voted it well worth it for the expressions on the faces of their teaching Journeymen.

Naturally, H'llon wore a stern face about this affair in public and in private was not at all displeased.

Boys and girls who played harmless practical jokes were happy, healthy and normal children. So long as they did not permit ragging to get out of hand, to the detriment of their work and that of others, there was no harm in it at all.

And sooting chair seats was at least an original prank, and one he had not himself ever encountered before! H'llon was pleased too by the integrity of the perpetrators, who had risen in a body when he demanded to know the authors of the outrage. The dignity of the Journeymen must, after all, be upheld!

And as it was aimed at all, indiscriminately, it was no rebuke to anyone being unfair, and that had to be good. The unfairness had been sorted out by action from below and words from Glenlys, and none of those involved had any idea that the Master was fully aware of what had happened. Sometimes it was better to be diplomatically blind and deaf.

As to the chair sooting, H'llon painted such a droll word picture of the faces of the afflicted journeymen when he passed on the story to the other Riders of his acquaintance that they rolled around laughing.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

The apprentices were aghast when H'llon explained that they were to watch Thread, albeit from the safety of the Runway, as they had nicknamed the loggia. It was not just the younger ones who were apprehensive in the extreme; and though the Journeymen had received prior warning, there were nervous looks on the faces of both Elerel and Glenlys.

H'llon explained the rule of the Woodcrafter Hall, that the pact made with F'lar made utter protection essential, and pointed out that the weavercrafters were also considering taking on the custom of walking sweep before the all-clear, because of their stands of flax and cotton, according to the local climate.

"Masters must, Journeymen ought and apprentices may walk sweep," H'llon said. "Save that I shall not be walking sweep because I shall be flying, many lengths above. My weyrmate will be on hand to reassure you all, however, until her dragon is grown enough to fly Thread, which will be next Fall. I have no intention of permitting anyone to walk sweep who cannot cope with the sight of Thread; for such would be a liability. After Fall a list will go up for volunteers to sign up."

"It's not really so bad," said Haster. "You get used to it, you know. Sorry, Master, for speaking out of turn."

"Under the circumstances, excused utterly," said H'llon. "Haster, as well of course as Sebarek and Falom and Journeyman Tahnee are quite used to walking Sweep in Lemos."

"Lord Groghe goes out as Trailing Edge passes, too, and there are Harpers who volunteer for that as well, Master," said Duthi. "I'm no stranger to it; seeing the back end of it as it passes, anyway. The odd strand is still falling but not much."

"Good; that's five, no six seasoned people; Faleron, you've been close enough to the stuff too, haven't you?"

Faleron nodded.

"Panic is the enemy more than Thread," he said, loudly. "If everyone does what they are supposed to do, and doesn't disobey, there is no significant danger. Little enough gets past the dragons. I'm flamethrower-trained, too, Master, and considered steady enough to go on Overwatch."

"Good; you and Tahnee will do that on future Falls then," decreed H'llon. "I'll borrow some steady older Weyrlings to help too, until we've trained more of our own overwatchers. Those on overwatch," he explained, "have the job of only searing Thread from the air if it comes near our sweep walkers; we stay close in a huddle until trailing edge has passed. Nobody walks sweep until trailing edge has passed if it is windy, of course."

"Please, Master, why not?" It was Thel of course who asked.

"Because in wind, even a dragon as big as Melth can be blown into Thread; and gouts can be blown about backwards into sweep walkers though Fall has passed over. It's an unwarranted risk for those who cannot flit _Between_ to avoid it. We'll wait in the Runway until it's gone in windy conditions; the courtyard creates an area of calm air. I built it that way. It's why the roofs are shaped the way they are. I've arranged, this first time for a few weyrlings to show you how you will be walking, and how overwatch works. You will be quite safe stood back against the walls. There will be no exceptions made for this. You MUST know the enemy we all face, even if you cannot bring yourselves to go out again. Understood?"

He was understood; even if it was not popular.

oOo

Z'ira took no nonsense from anyone. As she pointed out, some of the weyr children walking sweep for the education of the apprentices were a good two turns younger than the youngest apprentice, and were they really prepared to be shamed by babes that young?

She did not mention that most of the 'babes' that young did not even remember a time when they had not been used to seeing Thread fall; weyrbred children were encouraged to watch, held in the arms of their foster parents from the earliest age, to accustom them against a time when they might Impress.

It did the trick.

The apprentices swallowed hard; and if some pressed themselves harder against the Hall walls than others, Z'ira made no comment on that.

A fear faced is less then the imaginings of that fear; most had been expecting Thread to fall as thickly as snow, or heavy rain. The few single Threads drifting down, neatly seared by flamethrowers, under the direction of Po'nea, who had demanded the Right, were much less than the apprentices had anticipated!

"Look – there are dragons flaming!" Leselly called, pointing them out. "Is one of them the Master?"

Tahnee laughed.

"No, the Master and his wing are higher yet, taking the main brunt – they don't call it the protective wing for nothing!" she said. "And here comes the Queen's wing!"

Lower than the main wings where the gouts of flame were what made them visible, the forms of the big Golden dragons and their attendant Greens were visible as silhouettes only a few tens of lengths up, giving second level coverage. They gave neat, economical bursts from their flamethrowers the steadier Green Riders on the leading edge using flamethrowers as well as their dragons' flames.

Fall lasted ten minutes; and it was the longest ten minutes of their lives for some of the more nervous apprentices.

"Congratulations," said Z'ira, quietly. "You've just done what few adults dare to do. Very well, pick up your agenothree sprayers; you may join the sweep to deal with any infiltration."

It would do them good to work hard searching for burrows rather than brooding and chattering.

The reward – for many of them – was seeing the return of the dragons, low and swooping into the Weyr, for Fall ended over Nabol Main Hold, and the dragons were able to return less than an hour after it had passed the Weyr. Melth dropped down so that H'llon might congratulate his apprentices personally; and many gasped! It was the first time most had seen Melth close to, and the size of the big Bronze was a shock. Even those who claimed to want to be near dragons were taken aback, and many of the children took an involuntary step of fear backwards.

H'llon absently noted that the young ex-harpers Caragal and Femil showed no fear; nor Faleran the one Holdless lad. Duthi, of course, was used to dragons and greeted Melth familiarly. Tarlon managed to hold his ground, having seen Melth before. Linnara was getting used to dragons, but only Meroon was more joyously awestruck than afraid. Thel, of course, greeted Melth politely; but the boy had travelled dragonback regularly. Still, none fled in terror, which was always a good start.

Z'ira silently handed a pot of numbweed up to the Bronze Rider, something she carried as well as agenothree in case of accident, and left H'llon to address the fresh score on his face whilst she turned her attention to slathering numbweed on the score on Melth's flank. The big dragon turned his face to nuzzle gratitude and affection.

"What's on his head?" asked Thel.

"The protective wing have helmets and neck-guards of well-resined skybroom," said Z'ira, "and the dragons have eyeshields. It doesn't stop it all, but it helps. How the shells, shards and crinkly black bits did you score your face, you big lug?" she demanded of her weyrmate.

"Bad luck. Looked up at an inopportune moment," said H'llon laconically. "Knew it was there and wanted to see better to duck. There was more than I realised and I didn't duck it all."

"Huh." Said Z'ira. This amounted to an unspoken scolding that she would not voice in front of the children. "Hot bath; it is unseemly that a Master should smell as bad as you do."

"Yes, Weyrwoman," said H'llon, automatically deferential to a Gold Rider. "The kids did good; I'm proud of you all," he added. Then Melth sprang skywards, the massive draught of his wings literally blowing some of the smaller ones over!

More apprentices signed up to walk sweep than any of them would ever have believed they would when the proposal was first made!

oOoOo

H'llon, reflecting on the flax fields, recalled that he had used well-boiled rags to make paper; and it had been durable and much sought after by Geriana. Unfortunately the Weyr had unsufficient leftover rag to make paper on the large scale.

But the weyr had agents out to help the Holdless, and if they cared to beg rags from various holds, perhaps offering printed sheets of news in exchange, and bring the rags to the weyr, or to a harper with access to the weyr, or even one of a number of collection points, the Printcraft Hall could buy such rags for quality paper and give another means of livelihood to those prepared to do some work for it.

H'llon grinned happily.

That idea solved several matters in one!

Voll was installed in the caverns at Igen, taking over the business of buying set up by Lady Petrilla, now P'rilla; and almost all news went through Igen eventually. A firelizard sent to Voll to buy rag would get a good response!

oOo

Everything was happening.

Master Fandarel came on a visit to H'llon.

"That type-writer your Holmes spoke of," he said, "Think we've almost got it cracked; seems from the description you wrote out for me that the alphabet is laid out on keys on a flat plain or slightly tilted bed, attached to keys that hit onto a piece of paper. Started off with the premise of keys on brass musical instruments, and the Masterharper showed me an instrument called a piarnow that has not been duplicated since the ancients, though it looks simple enough to me. I've been making him one," he added parenthetically. "There, the keys strike metal strings like harp strings. Only trouble with our typewriter is getting ink on the letters before striking the paper. If you ink them all beforehand, frequent letters need inking more often and you have faint letters."

"Hmm," said H'llon. "And if they sat in a bed of ink before going to strike the paper, they'd make a splatter. For small print runs, artists soak the colour into a piece of felt and press the block into that. I don't know if that will get us any further, but I mention it. Any luck with the sewing machine?"

"Almost there with that; I'm basing it on the treadle lathe, with gearing to make the turning motion lift the needle in and out. We're having some trouble getting the stitches to lock together; I think we need some catching mechanism beneath the bed. Working on that."

"With sewing you don't necessarily need the speed of a treadle; a hand cranked wheel might be sufficient for all but the biggest jobs, and simpler and cheaper to build," suggested H'llon.

Fandarel nodded.

"That could be sufficiently efficient. Not for tailoring perhaps, but for individual Holds … I can see every Hold having such a machine one day, and every Hold with a typewriter to keep records. I'm using my distance writer as a basic build for the keyboard, we've tried to cluster the most frequently used letters in the middle."

H'llon nodded.

"It makes sense to have a standard if it's more efficient than having the alphabet laid out in order," he said. "How does the distance writer write?"

"Messily," growled Fandarel. "If only you could press the key right through the ink pad you suggest to carry on to the paper we might be getting somewhere."

"Soak a ribbon in ink and hold it tight enough in tension that it not press down anywhere but the letter?" suggested H'llon.

"Sounds just as messy … but anything is worth a try. You're the printing ink expert!"

"NO-ONE is a printing ink expert yet," said H'llon, dryly. "We're just less inexperienced here, and most of us have the stains to prove it."

Fandarel laughed.

"We have so many things to work on!" he said. "It's exciting; and I'm sure we'll do it efficiently eventually!"

oOo

The young Masterharper also came to see H'llon.

"I've had suggestions made that stories made up out of people's heads and not based on history might prove popular," he said. "What do you think?"

H'llon shrugged.

"I don't see why not. Stories purely for entertainment without a moral message have no harm in them. And we make up stories to entertain children at times, usually basing them a little on our own childhood exploits perhaps. You are instituting it as a branch of Harping?"

"Not yet," said Sebell, "but it occurs to me that this might come in the future. However, not all stories written will be suitable to be read by others; some people are more skilled story tellers than others and besides, I am sure some people will try to write … unsuitable stories."

"Hmmm," said H'llon, who was no innocent. "We need someone to read all of such and pass them to be suitable for printing."

"Exactly," said Sebell. "And I was wondering if you would be offended if I suggested Master Robinton. He's supposed to be resting, but if he had a useful and sedentary job, he'd be more likely to rest than if he was bored."

"A brilliant idea. I shall write a personal request to him," said H'llon. "He will also see and amend any poor grammar and spelling."

Sebell brightened.

"Indeed," he said. "Thanks for that, H'llon! I hoped you would not feel it was encroaching on your craft."

"Sebell, I don't have time to go through works of make-belief, and nor have I the inclination. And Master Robinton has the sense of humour to laugh himself silly over any romantic maunderings of some idiot describing a fictional affair between a Rider and some Holderwench, which will doubtless form the majority of the trash that gets written."

"Heh, we think alike in that. Some of the apprentices have been thinking about tales of derring-do, but like you, I suspect that what will be written, and what will also be popular, will be love stories. And with many marriages made for economic reasons, would you be surprised?"

"No, not really," said H'llon. "Well, if Master Robinton is ready for it, we can drop the odd suggestion around, and see what happens. There's plenty of paper to go round now, anyway."

"And that we are all grateful for!"

oOo

H'llon dropped in on T'fer.

"You were sweet on Sadvia, weren't you?" he asked, bluntly.

"Yes, H'llon, but the operative word there is 'were'," said T'fer. "I fear I disrespect her greatly; I've been far too happy and busy to remember her except sometimes in passing."

H'llon laughed.

"Well, in that case, it was not meant to be; so I'll spare you any embarrassment, and I'll drop in myself to check she's happy building the new looms."

"Pass her my good wishes," said T'fer.

"I shall," said H'llon. That was a message in itself. Sadvia was a logicator; she would realise that if T'fer had still been in love, he would have begged a lift.

Sadvia, in fact, was pleased to receive T'fer's good wishes. However, as she seemed pleased enough to keep a friendship but no more, H'llon was glad. No broken hearts here. And Sadvia was more than happy to work with the new looms, and had an apprentice weaver who was also keen on innovation who was specialising in loom building.

The loom building was in capable hands, some metal parts being required to be made by the smithcraft, and the printers required to work with the patterns to print the hole marks, but with R'rik's enthusiasm over that, and Sadvia's cheerful understanding, H'llon could essentially leave most of that in the hands of the two journeymen.

It might be worth stealing R'rik a little bit on secondment as a Weavercraft advisor to the Print Hall when Dilbeth was fully grown and the young Green Rider had more time on his hands.

And the Mark notes were completed and ready for distribution, on schedule! Journeymen from many crafts now had the new style of documents, and it appeared that the problems associated with Threewoods Woodcraft Hall were sorted out.

The great storm with ball lightning, in which the second Threewoods bully, Bannessan, redeemed himself by saving two children really proved the end of those problems, and H'llon was glad to be one who offered skin to build up the boy's badly burned feet.

H'llon was, however, going to miss his friend D're; T'lana's interference through, of all people, lazy Prisca in Telgar Weyr had led to F'lar intervening to suggest the need for a young Benden-bred Queen and her rider, and L'rilly and D're had departed to take their place there. D're sent a carefully worded missive to H'llon regarding R'mart's heart attack at the shock of several girls Impressing Greens at the older Queen's hatching, and that Bedella, or B'ella as she now styled herself was not the volatile fool R'mart had led everyone to believe, but was more like the people of H'llon's family, very literal, and unable to understand people. L'rilly had her well in hand, and B'ella was firmly standing down as senior Queen Rider, preferring to be junior to L'rilly, now the other Queenrider, B'ella's daughter, had returned to Southern. It appeared that Telgar Weyr might now be copying High Reaches Weyr in having a Harperweyr; as well as in having girls Impressed to Greens! With Tamalenth egg-heavy too, it looked as though H'llon could stop worrying about the possibility of High Reaches having to cover for Telgar in the anticipated Long Pass.

And the culmination of a successful Turn to date was the arrival at High Reaches Weyr of H'llon's cousin Josis, confirmed as a Journeyman after having been denied her rights for so long, ready to stand for Daenilth's clutch.

With the Printcraft Hall now sufficiently well established that it was almost running itself, things were going very well indeed.


End file.
